Olly Olly Oxen Free (ON HIATUS)
by Dandelion Mind
Summary: Until the murders, it was difficult to enjoy anything in this dull town. Now CSI has nothing on my life, and I have my own killer to catch. I just wish I didn't have another mystery to solve. Bella. Just as puzzling, only infinitely more annoying. AH ExB
1. Prologue

**Just a heads-up, guys, this story is rated M for strong language, GRAPHIC violence, and scenes of a citrusy nature.**

**Thanks to my awesomesauce beta, Chrisska. Seriously, if she didn't kick my ass on a regular basis you wouldn't be here. Massive thanks also to Landdownunder and OrdinaryVamp for pre-reading and general loveliness. You guys all know how much ILY already!**

**SM owns Twilight. Updates will be every Wednesday.**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

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><p>"Ugh! Let's just go <em>home!<em>"

_Is she kiddi-_

I whip around so fast that Bella inevitably walks into my chest, bouncing backwards and struggling to keep her footing on the soggy ground.

"Dude! I totally didn't think of that!" I mock. "Is that what the trail of bread crumbs was for? 'Cause I was under the impression that we were fucking _LOST_!" I flail my arms out, indicating the dimming woods surrounding us.

I know bickering with her is equivalent to poking a hungry bear with a stick, but the aching in my feet, and the damp chafing my ass totally validate my outburst. She ignores me, pushes past, and stomps through the trees with a gait that clearly says 'I'm mad, but still insist on pretending to know where I'm going.'

As I follow behind, in what I'm pretty sure is still the wrong direction, I consider for the millionth time how she's more trouble than she's worth.

"You could've at least worn something white and clingy," I mutter, looking up at the clouds that refuse to stop spitting rain on my face. I reach in my pocket and attempt to light a smoke, frowning at the weight of the packet. _It was full... _I glance at my watch..._ six hours ago._

Six hours.

That's not long, I guess, if you're vegged out on the couch watching 'Law & Order' re-runs. However, walking around in endless circles, searching for a body whose "exact location" we supposedly "remember", makes the time _drag_.

"Does this area look even vaguely familiar?" I ask, attempting to be constructive.

"Sure." She turns to face me, walking backwards now. "That tree looks really familiar..." she points and squints. "And that one... oh, oh, and that one too! Oh my god, Edward! I know exactly where we are!"

"Fucking comedian."

She sighs, "I don't know why you're being so whiny. It was _you_ who insisted on traipsing out here and moving the piece of shit. He's perfectly fine rotting wherever he is. You just like to over-complicate things."

"Hardly! Bella, if you had even the _slightest _sense of self-preservation, you wouldn't have been so sloppy in the first place! I'm trying to save your ass getting caught!" I take a breath. "Unfortunately, you'll notice, this happens to be the basis of our_ entire_ relationship - me, cleaning up _your _messes!"

"Relationship!" She scoffs. "This isn't a relationship! It's a you-telling-me-what-to-do-ship. And it doesn't work if you're constantly telling me to do stupid shit." At my silence she turns her back on me again, adding, "You're a shitty sidekick."

_Sidekick? Fucking perfect._


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One:**

A new car.

A torturous family trip to Fort Lauderdale.

_Hell, _I'deven take a surprise birthday party at this point.

But the cryptic whispering my parents have going on in the kitchen leads me to believe that something _much_ more sinister is in the works.

I keep a keen ear out for the word 'divorce', because, well, I really wouldn't be shocked if it slipped into their not-so-low-key conversation. It never comes though, and I guess my suspicion that they're more co-dependent than ever rings true.

So, in the Cullen household it's the 'A' word that triggers the upset-alarm.

Adoption.

This simple word simultaneously brings me to roll my eyes and clench my jaw. I already have _two_ pretend siblings, both of whom, I'm certain, were adopted in an attempt to replace my first.

_Lizzy._

Of course I miss hereverysingle fucking day, but honestly, I do _not_ need another Alice or Emmett to fill the void. Thankfully, it appears mom is on-side for this one.

"_I'm not saying 'No, period,' I'm just... it's so out of the blue, and I can't even imagine the amount of red tape that could be involved with this case."_ I hear her whisper from my expert hiding place, just by the kitchen door.

I hold my breath, the natural confidence in my mother's conviction wavering. In my gut I already know how this will end, and as always I wish she wasn't such a doormat. I guess I get the basics of their relationship. He manipulates; she bends willingly. But it especially hurts when she's supposed to be batting in my corner. For our family.

"_Darling, she's been through so much already, and If we don't take action they'll just throw her back into another of those godforsaken group homes. What kind of people would we be? Refusing a child help that we could so easily give?"_

_Smooth, Dad. _I think bitterly.

"_I know," she sighs heavily, "And the last thing I want to be is judgemental, but we hardly know anything about this girl. She could be a junkie or prostitute by now, and I wouldn't want to bring that kind of influence around the kids. They've been doing so well lately, and I have to look after the family we already have first."_

Well, this is fun. The kind of fun tuning into a movie half-way through is.

"_We know that she's been through something… horrendous, with absolutely no-one in her life to provide the support she desperately needs right now. Isn't that all we need to know?" _He pauses, waiting for her response. When she falters, he continues, _"Look, we're not committing to anything major, sweetheart. It'll just be a temporary foster agreement at first; testing the waters, okay?"_

_Do they teach that in Persuasion 101? Act like it's a done-deal to secure your victory?_

"_I don't know... I ..."_ She sighs. _"I just don't want to risk hurting her further. And if it doesn't work out-"_

"_Please,"_ he pleads, lowering his voice and bringing out the big guns. I can practically see the manipulative look on his face. _"She could help us find Lizzy."_

_He shoots!_

_He scores!_

_Wait, what!?_

My sharp intake of breath, accompanied by the sound of my head knocking back against the wall in shock, alerts them to my presence.

_Shit, shit, shit._

I scramble to move before they can identify exactly _which_ one of their nosy-ass kids has busted them.

Wow, the stairs are further away than I remember, and the hardwood floor is way more slippery underneath my socks.

I end up doing a floor slide that Tom Cruise would be proud of, but catch my ankle, allowing the smashing of mom's vase to punctuate my non-escape nicely.

_Stupid tiny tables!_

"Edward! What are yo- that vase was your great-great-grandmother's!" She huddles down at my side, completely ignoring any injuries I might have incurred, whilst gasping at the broken shards in disbelief.

In true form, my father gets straight to the point. "What were you doing loitering in the hallway, Son?"

"I wasn't 'loitering', _Sir._" I stand, dusting myself off dramatically. In my peripheral vision I spy my mother picking up the miss-matched pieces of the vase, comically trying to fix them together in the air. "I was simply taking a stroll in my _own _fuckinghouse when I just stumbled upon my dear, old, conspiring parents."

"Language," mom mutters, apparently giving up on the heirloom as she sits back on her heels in defeat.

"Obviously," he clears his throat, "you have no idea about what we were discussing, but if you consider helping someone in need to be a 'conspiracy', then we've clearly failed somewhere in your upbringing."

_Ugh_. As if I _don't_ hear him call my mother the nastiest shit in bed. I almost gag.

"Well, climb down off that cross for a sec and explain your selflessness to me, yeah?"

"I can't deal with you now," he quickly dismisses me, glancing at mom. "We'll discuss this as a family when appropriate. Come on, dear, I'll send it in for repair and it'll be good as new, don't worry," he soothes, pulling her up to him.

He can shove the pointed look he just gave me up his ass; they shouldn't be sneaking around with secrets about adopting hobos in the first place.

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><p>The fateful "Sit down, kids, we need to talk." spiel is never uttered by either parent, but a week later my father comes home from his shift at the hospital with the aforementioned delinquent hobo in tow.<p>

Needless to say, their first thinly-veiled attempt to replace Lizzy after her abduction hadn't turned out how they'd planned. Alice's dark features and fickle personality bear absolutely no resemblance to Lizzy's light and introverted demeanour. This, however, this small girl shrouded in my apparently borrowed hoody and sweatpants, reminds me of her even less. I know this good little deed will look awesome on dad's 'Human of the Year' application, but she's creeping me out, and currently smells like my grandpa.

My _dead_ grandpa.

"Kids!" Mom interrupts my observations and moves swiftly next to the girl, placing an awkward arm around her shoulders, "_This_, is Isabella." She beams, "She'll be staying with us for the foreseeable future, so I'd like you all to make her very welcome whist she settles in and gets the hang of things."

I look over at my established siblings in the crude assembly line we've formed in the lobby. Emmett looks vaguely amused, whilst Alice- against my better expectations- has her nose crinkled up, looking mildly disgusted. I honestly thought she'd be thrilled at the prospect of a shiny new sister, but Isabella clearly doesn't meet her standards. Hobo is neither shiny, nor new looking.

"Do you have any luggage, sweetheart?" Mom asks, turning to Isabella as she clearly disregards our lack of enthusiasm.

"No," dad intercedes. "You two can go to the mall this week and get all the things you need."

_Don't forget to salute, mom._

"You can keep the clothes," I offer, under the pretence of kindness. The tensing of her posture tells me she hasn't missed the insult, and I smile at the fact that at least she's not dense.

"Okay!" Dad says, releasing a deep breath, his hands making a single, loud clap. "Who wants to show Isabella to her room?"

_Crickets._

"Well?" He prods, eyeing each of us. The fucker.

"The shower is that way," I point with my thumb over my shoulder before turning and ascending the stairs with a wave. I hear mom scold me as I make my way up to the third floor, half-expecting her to follow whilst giving an informative lecture on the value of manners and respect. Twenty minutes later it becomes apparent that she has her hands full with other, more _fragrant_ things. So I settle in for a lovely night of forensics and porn.

My favourite.

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><p>Another cloudy, summer morning. <em>Great.<em>

I wake and roll over in bed apathetically. The few, uneventful days since the 'Golden Child' arrived have been mildly odd. I've barely even seen her, and I'm starting to think that's a good thing. Instead, I've had to tolerate mom's gushing over what a 'sweet girl' she is, and hear 'You should take her into town, show her around. I know you'll get along swimmingly, she's so smart'.

Honestly, you'd think it was _her_ who'd dragged Isabella- sorry, _Bella_- into our lives.

Dad has barely even acknowledged her existence, which is more than a little confusing. The same applies for Alice and Emmett. Although to be fair, they've both been absent most of the summer, undertaking their socially acceptable activities, with their socially acceptable friends.

Me? Never changing. Ever present.

I'm pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the door.

"What?"

"Um, it's Bella, Esme said to give you these." Her voice is muffled and foreign.

"Whatever, come in."

I don't make an effort to move as I hear the door open and her quiet footsteps approach. She clears her throat loudly. "Quit being an asshole. Where do you want them?"

I lift my head up solely by my neck, remaining on my back as I raise an eyebrow at her unexpected lack of timidity.

"Well, aren't you just a bowl full of sunshine?" I retort, taking in the freshly laundered hoodie and sweats in her arms,"And I said keep them." I allow my head to fall back and sink into the warmth of the pillows, closing my eyes and wishing she'd just leave me alone to take care of my morning wood.

"Yeah, no. I don't have rabies or whatever it is that offends you, and they've been professionally dry-cleaned. Which is fucking ridiculous, by the way. Who dry-cleans _sweatpants?_"

_Touché, hobo._

"Fine, just leave them on the end of the bed and go."

The door closes a moment later and I lazily sit up to find that she's just dumped them on the floor, right where she was standing. Literally just let them drop from her hands.

Okay, so I guess I deserve that for being a dick to her, but I'm really not a morning person.

I wonder idly if that's a good or bad thing. I mean, Gandhi and Nelson Mandela fall into the 'Morning Person' category, right? I, on the other hand, am stuck with the likes of Hitler and Juan Arreola as a 'Night Person'.

Jesus, I need more things to fill out my day.

I'm pulled from my musing by the sound of Beyonce's 'Flawless' blasting from the tiny speaker in my phone. It's been a while since I've heard that particular ringtone, and so, against my better judgement, I answer it; or rather, my dick answers it for me.

"Baby!" I hear the shrill greeting and cringe into the receiver, rubbing a hand over my face as I scratch my belly absent-mindedly.

"Jess... I told you not to call me that."

"Oh, _I'm s_orry," she taunts, "I just thought maybe you'd got over yourself and your little tantrum."

"It wasn't a tantrum, and it will always be too soon."

"Fine, 'baby' is gone. I Have bigger fish to fry.""

"Great, now that we've cleared that up... _again_-"

"Edward, you really do need to get over this whole..." I can practically see her waving her arm around in circles, "_thing_... you have going on. It's not cute anymore, and you know it only works in rom-coms and romance novels, right?"

"That fucking _'thing'_ is my personality, Jess. So number one, I don't have to do shit. Two, I told you to stop reading that deluding crap, and three... I have stuff to do," I lie easily.

Wait, no, I don't lie. Jerking off and re-organising my DVDs totally counts as 'stuff'.

Despite my hostility, I know Jess is one of the few friends I have in Forks, and should probably treat her better. She may be a year younger, and Alice's best friend, but we still have fun. I know her great rack has a lot to do with that, but she also has an original thought every once in a while too, which helps. "Did you break up with Mike yet?" I continue. "Want me to make it all better?"

"I can hear you smirking through the phone, idiot, stop it." I laugh because she's right. "And no... on both accounts. Thank you very much. I told you I'm done with the 'giving and no getting' routine."

"Oh, please! You get plenty."

"No, I _got_ half. The sex is no good without the love. Edward. Everybody knows that."

_Oh god, I can't._

I actually snort, "And Mike Newton _loves _you?" This shit is golden. The guy loves getting his pole wet and his mother's mac 'n cheese. That's literally _it_.

"Well... no," she fumbles, "not yet, but he will because he's not an idiot. Like you." She insists.

"Okay, sweetie."

"Don't patronize me, Edward!" She huffs. "Anyway, that ship has sailed and I'm not calling to talk about us. Stop being so self-involved for a sec and gimme the deets about the Swan girl!"

"The what girl?"

"Duh! Daddy says they found her on the porch of that old decrepit house. Carlisle brought her home like some stray cat? Ringing any bells?" I cringe at the excitement in her voice.

Jess's dad is the chief of police, and I'm pretty sure he shouldn't be running his mouth off to his daughter; especially with the way she lets hers flap. Chief Stanley only got the job in the first place when the previous chief and his wife were murdered in their home.

"Bella is Chief Swan's daughter?"

"Um, _yeah._" She says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "So she's there? God, you're slow on the uptake."

"Sorry, Jess, but we haven't quite bonded yet. Our Hair-braiding session is pencilled in for next Tuesday though," I deadpan.

"Whatevs, just tell me about her! What's she like? Is she pretty? Is she smart? Is sh-"

"Jesus, slow your roll, woman. Why aren't you calling Alice about this?"

She sighs. "Because she's otherwise_ occupied _at Jasper's. You'd know that if you weren't such a deadbeat brother."

Point taken. I really can't argue with that.

"Sooooo, get to the answering! You're killing me."

"Oh, um," I try to remember her questions. "Er, smart? Mom says she is." But that's my mother.

"Continue..." She states all shrink-like. I honestly wouldn't put it past her to be taking notes.

"Er..." _Pretty?_ It occurs to me that I haven't actually looked at Isabella properly. I mean, the first time I saw her she had on my over-sized hood and her thick brown hair all over her face. I guess I've seen the back of her head a few times, so, more hair. This morning I noticed she was kinda scrawny looking. With long hair. "Er..." I stall. "She's... small?" It comes out as a question.

Small is a good adjective, right?

_Right._

"And she has hair," I add.

"And...?" Jess pushes, not satisfied with elaborate my description.

"And, I don't fucking know, alright?"

I also don't know why I'm so high-strung today. I'll admit the words 'chipper' or 'perky' have never been thrown around in reference to me, but still.

"Okay! Don't bite my head off, I'm just curious!"

"Well, you'll see her at dinner tomorrow afternoon, won't you?"

Jess has been a staple at our Sunday lunches ever since we moved here from Chicago five years ago, so it's a given she'll be there. Notepad in-hand. "If you really can't wait until then you'll just have to hunt Alice down," I say with a tone that I hope isn't as short as earlier, but still says 'Now leave me the fuck alone and hang up.'

"Your useless." She goes quiet, as if that's supposed to make me spew out Bella's life story.

"Yeah, I am. I'll see you tomorrow, bye."

"Okay, By-"

I hang up before she finishes her word and fall back into the pillows with a sigh. Looking at the time on my phone I realize it's actually not a cloudy morning, but a cloudy afternoon.

_Shit, how did I sleep in until two-thirty?_

You'd think knowing how much of the day I'd already wasted would make me sprint for the shower. Instead, I manage to snuggle in the sheets for a further twenty minutes, contemplating how my bed is my prized possession. Along with my car, it's one of the few things in this world that perfectly serves its purpose.

Unlike people.

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><p>The day remains dull until I make my way back upstairs, having been evicted from the living room by Emmett.<p>

"Sorry bro, flat-screens were made for sports and tits, not autopsies and fingerprinting," he'd said, stealing the remote.

I'd shook my head at the fool and his ignorance. Forensics and criminology are completely valid interests; he just doesn't have the mental capacity to grasp that. I'd rather be a science nerd than a quarterback any day. Plus, if he actually paid attention, he'd realise that the chicks in my shows are still actresses. As in, hot actresses solving crimes. Simple logic.

Reaching the door to my room, I turn the handle and open it to find someone stood there.

_Bella?_

Bella stood by my night stand.

She literally freezes on the spot with the keys to my beloved Volvo dangling in her small hand. The expression on her face would be funny if I wasn't so shocked, if it didn't scream "Busted!".

"The fuck are you doing in my room?… With my keys... In my _room!_" I rant.

Nothing.

She doesn't move or speak. Just stares back at me stupidly.

_Emphasis on the stupid._

"Bella?"

She finally snaps out of her apparent paralysis. "Um... I," She fumbles, dropping her arms limply to her sides as she looks away nervously. "I, er... I needed the keys to the garage. Esme said I could use your old bike, but I didn't want to wake her, so…"

"_Okay._" I say sarcastically, not buying it for a second. The girl can't lie for shit with those shifty Bambi eyes. "Well if that's the case, why the hell do you need a bike at," I glance down at the watch on my wrist, "stupid 'O Clock in the morning?"

Is she a high-functioning sleepwalker or something? The thin shorts and tank she's wearing are definitely not compatible with Forks' weather. Her nipples are already protesting at the cold.

"Can't sleep. Thought I'd burn off some energy." She shrugs, forcing my gaze to move away from her modest chest to her face. Before I can stop myself, an idea of _another_ way she could burn off the energy filters into my head.

_Arrrgh!_

I slap a hand over my face and shake my head side-to-side, desperate to get the image out of my brain.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!_

Cautiously re-opening my eyes a moment later, I fully expect to see a confused look at my behaviour, but suspiciously, her expression has morphed into something that I assume she thinks passes as nonchalance.

_Yeah, not at chance, sweet pea_.

I take brisk, broad steps, and it doesn't escape me that she recoils and tenses as I approach.

_Calm down, Bella. I'm not _that _mad. Jesus._

Swiftly, I snatch her hand in my own, cupping it as I pry the keys from her warm grasp.

"Here," I say, dangling the garage key out to her on the end of my finger after removing it from the ring. No way am I giving her the entire set.

She doesn't waste any time grabbing the metal back from my hand before quickly darting behind me. My brow furrows as I turn and watch her retreating form disappear around the corner.

_Well, that was… weird._

With a shake of my head I decide not to waste any time thinking on it, preferring to take a quick shower, and head out onto my room's balcony for my ritual bedtime smoke. The air feels chilly as hell on my wet head.

_Forget lung cancer, I'm gonna die of frost bite in this god-awful climate._

I light a cigarette and lean over the edge of the railing, resting on my forearms as I look out unseeing into the surrounding woods. Only a few moments later, I hear the distinct sound of tires crushing over stone.

Leaning curiously over the railing, I squint in disbelief as I spy Bella peddling down the wide driveway in the dim moonlight. I take note that she's at least put some pants and a sweater on, but this is still the Pacific Northwest.

_Oh yeah, mom, _I chuckle to myself,_ she's real fucking smart!_

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

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><p><em>Oh, first day of school, how I love thee.<em>

I sit in the parking lot, contemplating the monotonous hell that awaits inside. This is definitely one of those 'grass is greener' situations. It's screwed up considering I spent all summer wishing the semester would start, just to have something productive to do.

I'd hoped Isabella would provide some much needed entertainment, but the girl is evasive as hell. Dad was right about her addition to the fam' not being a big deal; my life is exactly the same as it was a month ago.

That's a little depressing.

I like moving forward.

Forward is good.

"Come on, man! We don't wanna be late on the first day!" Emmett yells through the wet glass of my car window, knocking obnoxiously. I roll my eyes, but grab my bag and join him anyway.

"What's the hold up? Nervous about getting reacquainted with actual people?" He slaps me on the back and I wince, pretending the force didn't almost wind me.

"Oh, I don't know, you nervous about getting reacquainted with actual brain cells?"

He smiles despite our polar senses of humor. "_There _he is."

We enter through the main doors, but thankfully go our separate ways without another word. After shoving my crap in my locker, I turn around and cringe at the sight of Mike giving an inappropriate 'Hello' to Jessica's tits. He must feel my gaze, because he looks up and casually gives me one of those 'bro nods'. I stupidly nod back, not having a fucking clue what I just communicated to him.

I make my way to Spanish, which starts out a little more interesting than usual. The new teacher, Mrs. Goff, is cool, but her novelty soon wears off and I easily zone out. I'm sure I hear Isabella's name whispered a bunch of times, but that's to be expected. This Podunk town hasn't had much in the way of gossip since… five years ago, actually. The return of the tragedy poster-child was bound to pique their interest.

They'll get over it.

By the time lunch rolls around, I'm ready to stick my head in one of the cafeteria ovens. I'm pretty certain the lunch ladies would let me back there, too. Jess says the cougars love my 'boyish charm', whatever the hell that means.

Speaking of Jess, she's already seated at her table, which is packed as usual. I don't know how she deals with being popular. All those people crowded around you constantly? It must be fucking exhausting. Especially today when there are even more than just her regular sheep. I'd take a quick guess and say that has everything to do with Isabella and her prime position, squashed between Alice and herself.

I'm pleasantly surprised to see that Bella looks altogether overwhelmed and uncomfortable. Not 'pleasantly' because I'm an asshole, but because she doesn't seem to be relishing the attention like most girls I know would be.

Alice dressed her this morning. I'd wager my college fund on it.

Gone are the baggy tees and sweats I was getting accustomed to. Instead a soft-looking turquoise sweater replaces them, and probably some of those spray-on jeans girls use to exhibit their ass cracks.

Later, when our eyes meet awkwardly in the lunch queue, I'm torn between saving her from the ambush, or just laughing obnoxiously at her predicament. I do neither, instead choosing to show my disinterest by swiftly turning away with disdain.

I'm preoccupied temporarily with the temptation to report the food in front of me to heath officials. Instant mashed potato and reformed chicken have absolutely _no_ nutritional value.

_Pot, meet kettle. _I think dryly.

I have to mentally shake my head at my own hypocrisy, since dad is forever giving me shit about my preferred diet of eighty per cent 'Froot Loops'. I think about how- unsurprisingly- Mom is slightly more understanding on this issue. Apparently it's just a _coping mechanism_ because it was Lizzy's favorite food.

_I call bullshit; they just taste good._

Still, mom continues to serve a me full plate at dinner, unwittingly nurturing artful food rearrangement skills.

Paying for a soda, I spy an inviting looking vacant table by the window. I pop in my earphones and crack open a book, assuming the usual 'sit next to me and I'll knife you' posture.

_Never fails._

I'm not sure why, or how much time has passed, but I get the urge to look back over at Jess and Alice's table.

I don't regret it.

Isabella is still there of course, staring absently at the table with a half-eaten apple propped in her limp wrist. The group surrounding her seems to have lost interest, momentarily engaged in their own separate conversations. I watch her for a few minutes, before she abruptly looks straight up into my eyes without moving her head. It's freaky as shit, and vaguely reminds me of something from a horror movie. She doesn't look away, and I'd swear she was pissed at me if her expression wasn't so blank. It's like she knew I was staring too long or something.

Without breaking our gaze, Isabella slowly places her palms flat on the table, using them as leverage to gracefully push herself up. Everyone pauses their yapping, looking at her in question. To my amusement, she just turns and casually walks away, exiting the cafeteria through the large double doors. Her abandoned lunch buddies look around at each other, clearly bewildered by her behavior. Inevitably turn their heads turn to Alice, as if she's supposed to know what's up. All she can do is shrug and get the old gossip mill churning.

_The art of backstabbing would be lost without teenage girls, I swear_.

I also swear I love my kid sister, but she's perpetually stuck in that stage where her insecurities and need for social acceptance drive the majority of her actions.

I idly wonder if high school is probably easier for guys. Sure, getting your ass kicked by some jock with a penis-complex sucks, but it's still quicker than the daily mental torture girls like to inflict on each other.

Band-Aids are cheaper than therapy, after all.

Since lip-reading is not a skill I possess, I abandon my attempt to discern what Alice is saying and take a more direct approach, following Isabella's lead and leaving the cafeteria silently. Only the lunch lady and a few stoned- looking freshmen notice my quick escape.

Fifteen minutes go by before I finally locate her. She's sat Indian-style at the back of the gym, scribbling away on a post-it note with a small frown of concentration.

"Hey, Sylvia Plath, lighten up." Bella doesn't acknowledge my presence, not even to pause the movement of her pen. "What was _that?_ "

Nothing.

"Are you always this emo or is today a special occasion?" I ask sarcastically, leaning my back against the wall beside her.

"I'd ask the same of you, but you're clearly always an abrasive fuck."

_Whoa, easy tiger._

"You're pretty intense then, huh?" I light a cigarette and tilt my chin up to exhale the smoke dramatically.

_Note to self: cut down on the film noir._

"If that's your preferred adjective," she answers simply. There's no emotion to her tone, and I get the feeling I'm just adding to her background noise. She doesn't even look up.

"For now I guess."

A few minutes pass in silence while I smoke, and she fills a couple more post-its. I can't read them from where I'm standing, but I'm curious to see what's seemingly so important. I bend down next to her, bracing my weight with my hands on my knees, "Your time travel thesis, or?"

She finally looks up. "You're kind of a dick, aren't you?"

As much as I want to, I can't stop the genuine laughter that erupts from my chest. You've got to admire that kind of blunt, unfiltered honesty. Bella just continues to stare at me, completely straight-faced, while I regain my composure. I wonder if she talks like this around my parents? I doubt mom would be as enamored if she did.

And…

I've never been this close to her before, so I take the opportunity to properly look at her face. My eyes scan her features quickly, and I reluctantly admit to myself that she's very… pretty? All big, brown doe eyes, with long, dark lashes and pouty lips.

_Bambi._

She's the exact opposite of Jessica, in a pale, brunette, girl-next-door kind of way.

"Alright, Chuckles, there's such a thing as personal space," Bella sighs, glancing back down at her crossed legs.

Suddenly she gathers up the notes, sticks them on top of each other and places them in a blue, overcapacity notebook.

She stands up and brushes lower-half off.

"Can you give me a ride home today?"

"You want a ride from the 'dick'?" I laugh.

"'Dick' beats your over-bearing sister and girlfriend. Yes, or no?"

"Fine, yes. And she's not my girlfriend," I add, purely for clarification purposes of course.

"Somebody should probably tell her that, then," she says flatly. I'm about to respond when Bella pops up on her tiptoes and takes the cigarette from my mouth, placing it in her own. "Later, then," she says with a dead smirk.

I watch her walk away, trying to decide whether I'm pleased or disappointed with her lack of spray-on pants.

* * *

><p>So, gym was fun… if you're into getting hit in the face with balls.<p>

_Actual _balls… not sweaty man-balls.

I shudder at the thought. That's definitely not a mental image to have again.

I wouldn't even normally have to participate if dad hadn't busted me forging notes on his behalf last semester. I'd debated skipping the class altogether now, but I can't have a blot like that on my college application. Not this late in the game. The promise of escape, and the freedom to indulge my interests is worth an hour of hell, I rationalize.

Mr. Banner and his biology class are my saving grace, and I'm thankful for the last period of the day. It's an AP class, but I'm already familiar with the material and have trouble keeping focus. What I really look forward to are our discussions after the other students leave.

Mostly we just shoot the shit about research developments, and he lends me his journal subscriptions. It's the intelligent kind of conversation and debate that I crave from college.

I know it's shitty of me, but I often flit between respect and pity of him. Rumour goes that when his social-climbing ex-wife got impatient she left him in the middle his PhD, forcing him to substitute teach in lieu of her financial support. It took a huge strain on his work, eventually leading him to accept a full-time position here in the Forks High School Science Department.

His dream career is now on hold. Indefinitely.

There's nothing more depressing than seeing someone have to settle. You'd never know he was miserable from his classes. His enthusiasm and wild mannerisms make him an awesome teacher, but if you take a closer look, I think the signs are there.

The dismissal bell rings and I gather up my things, approaching Mr. Banner's desk at a faster pace than is custom.

"Edward, my bouy, how was your summer?" I smile at the endearment.

"Absolutely thrilling. Yours?"

"I thought as much," he laughs, pulling a seat out for me.

_Shit, why did I tell Bella I'd give her a ride?_

"Sorry, Sir, I'll have to take a rain check. I'm sure you've heard about Carlisle's latest stray- she needs a ride home."

"Ah, not to worry." He says, pushing the chair back into place. "The elusive Miss Isabella Swan, correct?"

"Yeah. Mom would kill me if I made her walk, so…" I say with and apologetic look, turning to leave.

"I see. Please tell her I'll let this one slide, but if she skips my class again I won't be happy."

"She's in this class?" I pause, turning in the doorway.

"In theory- and for now- yes. Unfortunately for you, Lone Ranger, she'll also be your lab partner when she bothers to show up, being the numbers as they are."

My expression visibly falls.

"Sorry, kid, I know how you prefer to work alone."

"Thanks for telling me… and ruining my day." I gripe.

"Anytime!" He calls out behind me as I swiftly exit the classroom.

_I swear to god, if she doesn't pull her weight, or screws up my grade I'll… _

I don't know what I'll do, but I'm not down for giving anyone an easy 'A'.

The sight that greets me as I exit the school building only adds to my irritation.

"Get your _skinny ass_ off my car right now, or you're walking!" I yell aggressively across the parking lot.

Bella doesn't flinch, but I know she's heard me from the smile that creeps across her face. "You think I'm kidding?" I pick up my stride in an attempt to frighten her.

"Okay, okay! Calm down, dude." She finally leans away from the door, her hands raised in mock-surrender.

"You've already pissed me off today, don't push it," I warn, moving around the car.

"What did I-" I quickly get in the drivers seat, shutting her noise out with the door. I already know the end of her question.

"Mr. Banner's class?" I ask, turning toward her in the small space when she gets in.

Bella still looks confused, putting her seatbelt on as I start the engine. "AP bio? You know, the class you just skipped?"

"You're mad 'cause I skipped a class?" she asks, scrunching her nose in confusion.

"No," I sigh, "I'm mad because you're _in _the class."

"Oh," is her simple reply. I start to feel guilty when she begins to fidget with the fabric at the bottom of her sweater and turns to stare out the window. I can't blame her for trying to block me out. I know I'm just projecting.

The awkward silence becomes too much and I give in. "Sorry," I apologize sincerly, but it only seems to add to the tension.

"I just like working on my own, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sure you're as smart as mom says you are."

_Wow, dad would be so proud. The mollifying ability appears to run in the family._

"It's fine," her flat tone from earlier has returned, "I don't plan on attending anyway."

"Huh?"

"The class. I'm not going."

_Oh, yeah? Just like that?_

"Bella, this isn't college, you can't just not show up for class. You won't graduate."

"I know, and that's fine," she states, matter-of-fact.

"Stop saying _'fine'_, Jesus, and how is that _okay?_" I don't understand her logic at all. If she doesn't graduate she can't apply to college, and even working minimum wage requires a high school diploma now.

"I have other plans," she finally turns to me, shrugging.

_Oh I see, no big deal, then._

"What other plans could you possibly have?"

"Ones that don't concern you, so just drop it." I glance back over at her, about to push for more, but the way she's eyeballing me makes me think better of it. I resolve to just ask mom later.

The silence resumes as we drive through town. I think maybe it's less awkward now, but I'm not exactly an expert on human interaction. I forget she's there for a moment, wishing I were home, and quietly saying my thanks for the genius that is TiVo.

As a consequence of floating in my happy place, I nearly shit myself when she leans over, grabs the wheel and yells, "Stop the car! Now!"

I slam the brakes on.

_Breathe, breathe, breathe._

_The fuck just happened?_

_Breathe. Breathe._

The momentum of braking so suddenly causes both our bodies to lurch forward before we fall back heavily against the seats. My hands are still gripping the wheel tightly.

_Breathe._

I think my knuckles are actually white. "Are you trying to fucking kill us!" I fume. She's not even looking.

"Hey!"

_What is she looki-?_

Leaning forward, I look beside her through the passenger window. All I see is an old, beat-up, red truck parked outside the grocery store. I see a tan-looking guy with a ponytail approaching it.

"_Shit!_" Bella curses under her breath, ducking her head between her knees, apparently hiding.

"What are yo-"

"Here!" She snaps, shoving a post-it pad at my hands from her bag on the floor. I take it, but what I'm supposed to do with it exactly escapes me.

"Write the fucking plate down!" Bella yells, probably sensing my stupor.

"In my fucking blood, or what?" I wasn't aware my voice could go this high. "Give me a pen!"

She passes one over from her awkward position, huffing impatiently.

"The red truck?"

"Yes-the-red-truck!"

"Okay! Stop fucking yelling at me, woman!" The truck in question is pulling out, but I manage to jot the number down in time. I don't tell Bella he's gone yet. I need a moment to collect my shit together.

"Did you get it?" Her voice is muffled from the fabric of her jeans.

"That depends on whether or not you tell me what the hell is going on."

She calls my bluff and sits up anyway, her face flushed and hands still shaking slightly.

"Well?" I prompt.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

I can practically see the wooden cogs turning in her head, trying to come up with a legit excuse I imagine.

"And don't just make something up." I add pointedly.

She closes her mouth and straightens her sweater, "That's my truck."

"OK, Bullshit, you didn't even own a toothbrush until a month ago."

"It is!" She insists, "That asshole stole it!"

"Where? From your fictional garage?" I raise my eyebrows, "Did he steal your unicorn, too, sweetie?"

"Fuck you, I'm telling the truth. I've had that thing since I was eight!"

_She's a nut job, clearly._

I'm sure dad can arrange for a nice bed in one of those homes for the perpetually befuddled for her. It all makes sense now. Her post non-graduation plans include bouncing off the walls, and eating fruit from the wallpaper.

"Bella, nobody owns a car when they're eight years old, unless it's a plastic one," I reason.

"It's mine." She looks so sure, but I can't help the condescending look on my face. I simply don't believe her.

After a beat, she unbuckles her seatbelt and swings the door open, grabbing her bag.

"Where are you going?"

"Home!" She yells, bending down through the open door. I flinch as she slams it shut, making the car jolt.

_Lord, give me strength._

I get out, slamming my hand on the roof of the Volvo, "Get back in the car and stop being so fucking dramatic!" I yell behind her. Bella is across the street now, tying her hair up roughly as she walks.

"Just let me take you home and I'll drop it! I promise!" This is getting embarrassing; cars are actually slowing to enjoy the spectacle.

"That _place_ isn't my home!" Her voice is getting hoarse from all the yelling, and she shakes her head. I shake mine too, because I don't have time for this crap. I should have just stayed away.

"You're going in the wrong direction!" I inform her mockingly.

She flips me the bird without turning around, disappearing down the next street.

_Un-fucking-believable!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading, lovelies :)


	4. Chapter Three

**Suggested Listening:** 'I Might Be Wrong' by Radiohead

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three:<strong>

**Tickle My Morbid Fancy**

* * *

><p>"Take that look off your face this instant!"<p>

"You pull a stunt like that again, son, and you won't have a car to get _yourself _home."

_Great, when did they discover tag teaming?_

"I told you! She just freaked out and ran off before I could stop her, mom!" I continue uselessly trying to defend myself. That's not a complete lie. Bella did freak out, and she did run off. I just left out the part where I yelled at her while questioning her sanity.

We've been arguing- or rather my parents have been accosting me- in the living room for the better part of an hour. I can bet that meanwhile, Bella is upstairs eavesdropping with smug satisfaction.

My eyes narrow at the thought.

After our little debacle on the roadside two days ago she didn't come home until this morning, leaving me to explain exactly _how_ I'd managed to misplace an entire girl.

"Your story would make a little more sense if you could explain the cause of this mysterious 'freak out'," mom persists.

"I don't know. She's just… odd, okay?" For reasons that I'm not entirely certain of, I've decided not to divulge the almost-accident. Not yet, anyway. I'm thinking she probably doesn't want them to know, which puts the ball in my court and gives me something to work with. Not to mention, I still have her post-it note with the truck's plate number.

I don't plan to blackmail her exactly; it would just be nice to get some answers. For example:

Where does she go in the early hours of the morning?

Who is that ponytail guy?

Is she serious about not graduating?

Finally, where the hell did she stay for two nights?

I'm certain this list will get exponentially longer at the expense of my own sanity. I therefore need to start getting some answers as soon as possible.

"Can I go now?" I ask impatiently, the pressing obligation to sulk looming.

"Yes, I suppose," dad sighs, "but this isn't the end of it, Edward. We'll get to the bottom of this sooner or later."

_Yeah, good luck with that. _

I drag my feet all the way to the foot of the stairs and retreat to my cave. When I stroll into the room, I find little Miss Bella Swan sat on my fucking floor with my fucking laptop balanced on her fucking knees.

I can't.

I stop.

I turn and walk away.

My penchant for foul language has increased tenfold since meeting Bella.

She's got some fucking nerve talking about 'personal space', when she clearly doesn't understand the concept herself. She's purposely going out of her way to piss me off, that much is clear.

I make it halfway down the stairs when I hear her call, "Edward, Edward, wait a sec!"

"What?" I snap and swing around in place on the stair to glare back up at her.

"I… I'm sorry," she's apparently lost her nerve. "I thought you were out."

"Oh, well I guess that makes it okay, then? Cause you thought you wouldn't get caught doing… _whatever_ it is you were doing?"

"No… I guess not," she answers lamely and looks down at her feet. "I'll ask next time, I promise."

"Next time?" I scoff, "there won't be a 'next time'."

Bella looks vaguely panicked, before she nods her head meekly and decides to retreat along the hall into her own room, opposite mine.

_Oh, no you don't!_

Inspiration strikes, and I follow right after her up the stairs, stopping the door with the palm of my hand before it swings shut. The thud of the impact makes her turn to me with wide eyes as the door bounces back open.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are we not sharing? Thought I could use your bed, maybe borrow some lip-gloss? Do you have anything in a pink shade?"

"I don't own lip gloss."

Well, that wasn't the smart-ass response I was expecting. Stumped, l look around, taking in the odd appearance of the room.

"Where's all your stuff?" There's no girly shit on any of the surfaces. No clothes or makeup strewn about like I'd expect. It doesn't even smell like her- not that I know what she smells like, but rooms tend to reflect their inhabitants, and this one still looks like the guest room.

"I told you, this isn't my home," she answers cryptically.

"Yeah, about that…?"

Bella doesn't take the hint.

"Fine, you can keep your secrets, but I if you want that plate number you're gonna have to start playing ball." I threaten. Maybe I'm playing that card too soon? I wanted to be more prepared; have my strategy planned out.

Bella laughs, she actually laughs. "You might want to find a better hiding spot, then," she says, reaching in the back pocket of her jeans to pull out the now crumpled post-it note. She waves it in the air, her eyebrow raised.

_Shit._

"The amount of porn you own is offensive, by the way," Bella adds, before swiftly moving to the ensuite bathroom. She disappears inside and closes the door behind her, effectively shutting me out again.

_Godammit! _

* * *

><p>"Hey Eddie-?"<p>

"Do _not_ call me that, Alice."

Really, why can't people just call me by my name? Does that whole forced familiarity thing ever actually work?

"Whatevs, do me a favour, yeah?" she asks casually, taking a seat at the breakfast bar opposite me. I resent the way her group share the same stunted vocabulary, Jessica included.

"What?" I mumble around a mouthful of cereal; my morning fix.

"Bring Bella home with you after school? I have to go to Jasp-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I interrupt. She has to be. No way am I setting myself up for that fun-fest again. A week later and mom and dad still have to let it drop.

"_Pleeeeease?"_ she whines in that specifically female tone designed to force assent, that naturally makes men wince.

"Nope. Not a chance."

Alice pouts, placing her chin in her hands on the counter to frame the fluttering of her eyelashes more effectively.

"I said, no. She nearly killed us the last time."

"What are you talking about? You're such a drama queen."

I don't bother to elaborate, and instead roll my eyes.

"Please? Just this once? I don't want her to walk home with some crazy murderer on the loose."

It's my turn to look puzzled, "What?"

"The Quileute thing."

"Yeah, I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Are you joking? Oh my god! Do you like, live in a box?" Her eyes are bright, like they always get when she's about to depart news upon the tragically uninformed. "Some guy was murdered down at the reservation! They found him in the woods last night! It's all over the news!"

My whole being sits up to pay attention.

_Holy shit! A real-life, actual murder? Here?_

It's disturbing how excited she sounds. My sister clearly shares the traits of a sociopath. I figure my excitement is ethical, since it stems from morbid curiosity, but hers is simply from the gossip it will yield.

"Murdered?" A mix of scepticism and hope tints my voice, "are you sure it wasn't just a hunting accident? An animal attack, maybe?" I'm fully aware of this town's fondness for Chinese whispers.

"No way! He was stabbed like a _bajillion_ times," Alice exaggerates, "I don't get how you missed this! This crap is what you live for, right? And don't you have that stupid police radio, or whatever?"

"It's a police _scanner_, Alice," I correct, "and I haven't used that thing in years. Nothing ever happens here. You know that."

_Please let the batteries still work._

"Ugh! So true! I can't wait for college in the city." The fact that she doesn't even know which city she's referring to doesn't stop her from picturing it dreamily, before she continues, "so, Bella? You'll bring her home?"

"Wait, where was this?"

"The dead guy? I told you, in the woods."

"But where in the woods?"

"I don't know."

"Where was it near?"

"The reservation, I don't know."

"Well, who was it?"

"I don't know."

"Who called it in?"

"I. Don't. Know." She sighs, frustrated with me, "Really, Edward, do you see me wearing unflattering nylon? No, because I'm not on the police force!" She huffs. "Will you take care of Bella, or not?"

"Fine, but you owe me." I may have issues with Bella right now, but that doesn't mean I want her to get axe-murdered or anything. I'm not a monster.

"Great! You're the bestest!" Alice squeals, pleased at getting her way. She asserts her rapid mood swing by leaning over the counter to kiss my forehead quickly.

"Yeah, the bestest." I mutter to her retreating form as she leaves the kitchen. I drop my spoon in the cereal bowl with a clang. At least I know today won't be dull. Not if Alice's revelation is correct, and certainly not with Bella around.

* * *

><p>I arrive at school early for the first time since mom decided to let me try on the big boy pants and escort myself. I'm eager to speak to Jess- her dad being the police chief and all- but her car isn't in the lot, and I know she didn't get a ride with Alice today.<p>

Undeterred, I awkwardly try to insert myself into the conversation of a group of football players congregated around Tyler Crowley's stoner van. Butting in unannounced probably isn't the best way to interact with these douchebags, but I'm desperate for details and have no time for social conventions. They sense the intruder, and turn to stare at me like I have a literal dick on my forehead.

"_Soooo…_ you guys talking about that murder down at the res?" I ask, nonplussed.

"You're such a weirdo, Cullen," Tyler proclaims, like this is brand new information.

"Yeah, we've established that. What do you know about the murder?"

"Actually," Newton interjects, "We were just discussing the fine piece of ass that is Bella Swan."

I freeze.

"She'd get it." Eric announces casually.

_Lucky girl. What a privilege._

"Yeah, man. She's got that tight little bod. Like, small… like hot-Asian small," Mike agrees, attempting to make up for his lack of articulacy with lewd hand gestures.

They all nod and grin.

"Hmmm, those pouty lips will look perfect around my co-"

"Shut the hell up!" I blurt, cutting Tyler off. I unconsciously curl my fists at my side. They take in my posture, my tight jaw, and are initially taken aback before they begin to laugh in a Mexican wave.

_Fucking sheep._

"What's wrong, Cullen? Pissed cause you'll never get in _those_ panties?"

This is why they hate me, I know, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out. In simple terms, they can't comprehend how someone not on one of their gay little teams- someone who actually studies and thinks for themselves- can still get laid when he needs to.

I resist the urge to inform them that I could, in fact, get Bella's pants off in a heartbeat. I resist the urge because I'm better than that, but mostly because I know it's a lie and she'd rather chow down on razor blades than spend five minutes in my company.

"Yeah, I'm just dying to add incest to my portfolio." I reply dryly.

Bella is nowhere near close to being my sister- either biologically or legally- but maybe thinking of her as such will prevent me from mentally plotting her demise in the future.

Apparently my retort is sufficiently witty enough to shut them up for a second. "So, do you know where it was? Who it was?" I try to salvage something from this stunning display of social interaction.

"Morning gentlemen." A feminine voice calls from behind us.

Sweet baby Jesus, I've never been so happy to see Jess in my life. I grab her by the arm immediately and pull her from the crowd. She almost trips from my manhandling, but my curiosity won't let me feel guilty for it.

"I know you're dying to spill, what do you know?"

"Um," Jess looks up into my eyes, bewildered, "did Esme buy that weird coffee again?"

"What? No. Come on, I know you know about it."

"I presume you're talking about that poor Quileute guy?" she asks, and I can see she's silently judging my excitement- the exact same way I judged Alice earlier.

"Yeah." I try to sound less enthused… for her sake.

"Um, I don't really know. Daddy said it was one of the locals. His buddies reported him missing so they went to check his house and there was blood, like, everywhere." Her face scrunches up in disgust, but an intriguing kaleidoscope of potential blood spatter patterns flits through my mind.

"And…?" I prompt.

"Well, they got the sniffer dogs and stuff to search for him, and eventually they found him like half a mile from the house in the woods. Whoever it was literally _dragged_ him the entire way."

"What kind of idiot bothers to dispose of the body, but leaves the crime scene intact?" I laugh in disbelief, prompting a glare from Jess.

"Someone gets brutally murdered and all you can think about is how they could've done it better? You amaze me, Edward."

"Sorry, but you have to admit that's murder 101, right?" I second-guess myself when her scowl remains in place, "Sorry," I clear my throat, "Who was it?"

"They haven't caught him yet."

"No, the victim." I clarify, although I doubt it will take them long to find a suspect with a stupid ass mistake like that.

"Um, Embry Call?" she asks, but I shake my head, not knowing the name, "He was a big tribe member, in his forties I think, but luckily he didn't have a wife or kids, or anything."

_I wonder if he thought that was lucky when he was alive?_

"That's all I know." Jess says, raising her hands at either side of her head to abruptly end my line of questioning.

"Really?"

"Really. Come on, Sherlock, we're gonna be late."

* * *

><p>"I need your help."<p>

A worn photograph of a young girl and an older moustached man appears on the pages of the book I was invested in. My eyes flit around the cafeteria briefly, before they settle on Bella's face directly opposite me. Opposite me… looming over the vacant table I'd rather keep that way.

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to make me say it again?" she asks, her face clearly expressing her intolerance.

I don't reply straight away, and instead look back to the photograph. The subjects are atop the hood of an all-too-familiar-looking red truck. Their close embrace and warm smiles display their familiarity and apparent happiness.

This is Bella, I realize. This is Bella and her father.

I feel a momentary pang for her loss.

"Whist I admire your compulsion to be right, I can't see how I can help." I say as I move my fingers to pick up the photograph, but she quickly snatches it back with an almost panicked expression.

I'm gathering Bella has issues with sharing.

Sharing her things with others, of course, not sharing others' things.

"I want it back… the truck."

I sigh as I watch her hide the picture away in her bag on the floor. She slides into the seat next to me. "Bella, we might live in a nice house and all that shit, but Carlisle keeps us on a short leash. I don't imagine I have any more money than you do." I answer honestly. Sure, we have decent trust funds, but for now we settle with the 'realistic' weekly allowance dad sets. 'Boundaries for real-life' or some bullshit like that.

I try to look in her eyes as I say this. The sooner she believes me, the sooner she'll leave the table and leave me be. She holds my gaze and bites her full lower lip. Naturally, my eyes send the electrical impulse to my perverted hypothalamus, relaying that: 'Hey! This girl is fucking attractive, stand to attention!'

"I know that," her voice breaks my gaze from her lips, "I don't mean buy it. We have to _take_ it back. An eye for an eye." She shrugs.

"I didn't realise you were into the Bible."

"I'm not, asshole, but he deserves it, it's a victimless crime."

"Bella, that's what guys who have sex with dead bodies say."

She waits a beat before continuing, completely ignoring my rebuttal. "You've never had something taken from you? Something… irreplaceable?" Her words are slow and purposeful. I think she knows what she's doing.

Immediately I can't breathe.

_Lizzy._

In. Out. In. Out.

_Lizzy._

It's not fucking working.

Seconds pass. I'm hopeful my internal struggle isn't as blatantly obvious as it feels.

"Edward, he stole it from me. I'm only taking back what's mine." She adds hopefully.

It strikes me that she thinks I've taken the bait. I haven't, she just took me off guard by playing on my weakness. The fact that she's using my- our family's- loss as ammunition and trying to manipulate incenses me and I stand to leave the table abruptly.

Many of the students surrounding us turn to the sound of my screeching chair as it pulls back. The echo lingers, and more turn to gape.

"Bella?"

She tilts her face upwards as I take steps to approach her slowly, clearly getting in her personal space, since I know she's so fond of that.

I hope I'm as intimidating as I feel, but probably not.

"You steal that truck and I'll report you so fucking fast it'll make your head spin."

"Why?" Her simple reply is more swift and direct than anticipated. She's not scared.

"You crossed a line." Her eyes are questioning, but not remorseful like I'd hope. "You know what you just tried, don't play fucking dumb."

She's a better liar than I initially thought, because she still looks confused. "Don't talk to me. Stay out of my stuff, and stay out of my business," I assert bluntly and turn to walk away.

I realize eyes are following my retreat to the exit, but I really can't bring myself to give a shit.

* * *

><p><strong>Massive, gushing thanks to Chrisska, Landdownunder, and OrdinaryVamp again! And thanks to <span>YOU<span> for reading! :D**

**Think Edward is being a whiny little bitch? Think Bella needs a new hobby? Let me know! I love reading your thoughts and questions!**


	5. Chapter Four

****Hi guys! Hope you all had a lovely Christmas and New Year! Mine was a little _too _lovely, hence the delayed update, but thanks for coming back :D****

****Massive thanks to Chrissy again for unleashing her much-needed beta skills on this, and also to OrdinaryVamp and Landdownuder for their wonderfully helpful feedback.****

****Suggested Listening:** **'Kiss the Cook' by That Handsome Devil

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four:<strong>

**Door Number Two, Please**

* * *

><p>Shockingly enough Bella doesn't show up for AP Bio, but still manages to show up for her ride home.<p>

_How convenient._

"You know," I say causally as I approach my car, "the school is gonna call Esme and Carlisle eventually."

"And?" Bella replies, nonplussed.

"And…"

Her pink lips distract me.

_Fuck, what was I saying?_

"And," I continue, leaning on the car and shaking my head at myself, "you're gonna be in the shit when they find out you're not attending."

"Like you give a crap." She scoffs.

"Fair enough," I agree, chancing another glance toward her over the roof of the car, "but when you eventually get caught it'll create tension between you and them, which will ultimately be transferred to Alice, Emmett, and me. So," I sigh, "just show up for class. What else do you have to do? Really?"

"Nothing," she replies, a little to quickly for my liking.

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Really."

We get in the car and buckle our seat belts, beginning yet another journey in silence.

"I thought you said 'Don't talk to me anymore'," Bella attempts to mock in my own voice after a few minutes.

I chuckle.

"Yeah, about that… we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I was just tense before," I lie.

"Yeah, me too. I appreciate your apology."

"I wasn't apologizing."

"I know." She laughs, but turns to look out the window, shutting me out again.

* * *

><p>"<em>Yuuumm!<em>" Jessica moans over the plate of food mom places in front of her.

I can't help but notice Bella rolls her eyes a split second after I do.

How lovely of mom to assign Bella's seat opposite mine. I have no doubts about this being a strategic move on her part, just for the record. I wish she'd let this bonding bullshit drop. I honestly don't see the point with college approaching.

When I don't immediately tuck into dinner like everyone else, mom tries to discretely prompt me as usual, "Edward, dear, how are the green beans?"

"I'm sure they're delicious, mom," I answer benignly and pick up my knife and fork, purely to humor her.

"So," mom begins, placing her utensils down before taking a large gulp of her red wine, "how was school today, kids?"

Jessica and Alice immediately leap at the opportunity to relay the latest of Forks' High drama. Their enthusiastic tones quickly dull to a drone in my mind.

Bella remains silent as usual.

I glance across at her a few times and notice she's eating at almost the same pace as Emmett. That's really quite the achievement.

"...and that poor Mr. Call? Such a shame." The tail end of their conversation filters through my consciousness.

"What was that?" I ask, turning my attention back to them.

"That young man down at the reservation who was killed, dear," mom repeats.

"I'd hardly call him 'young', mom, but okay. Is there any more news on that case?" I ask, looking at Jess.

"Nope. They're waiting for the prints and DNA stuff to come back. Daddy thinks they're probably gonna catch him from that, but it'll take a couple weeks to get the results."

"It'll take longer than that," I say to no one in particular.

Federal labs are seriously backed up right now and most states are too strapped to fund their own. I mean, Arizona alone threw away thousands of samples from sexual assault kits last year just because they couldn't afford to store them, let alone process them.

_This guy is gonna be running for president of Mexico by the time they catch him._

"Didn't your father have friends down at the reservation, Bella? Did you know Mr. Call?" Mom asks between bites.

Bella half-chokes on her own mouthful.

"I hear chewing helps." I smirk across at her.

"Thank you," Bella clears her throat and takes a drink of water; her hand placed over her chest "...for that nugget of wisdom, Oprah."

I'm becoming far too familiar with her death glare.

Bella dismisses me and turns back to mom. "Yeah, Esme, he had a few. I don't remember their names or anything though."

Mom just nods back at her with this weird sympathetic expression; probably feeling guilty for bringing up her father.

"May I be excused?" Bella asks softly after an awkward beat.

"Of course, dear."

She stands and takes her plate to the kitchen, quickly jogging up the stairs to her room.

"Can I-"

"Not a chance," mom replies without even looking up at me. "Finish your dinner, Edward."

* * *

><p>An hour later I'm back in the safety of my own room.<p>

It didn't take much digging online to find the address of the Quileute murder, and I'm busy packing my 'supplies' when I hear a knock.

I open the door to find Bella stood there tugging on the bottom of her grey T-shirt.

"Oh good. It's my delivery from 1-800-head-case." I deadpan.

She rolls her eyes in response, and I realize her timid exterior always quickly dissipates when I try to push her buttons. I swear, it's like flipping a switch.

"Can I help you with something?" I prod.

"Can I borrow your car tonight?"

The absurdity of her request coupled with my already giddy mood causes me to crack up.

Bella just watches on unamused.

"No. You can't. Is that it?" I ask bluntly.

I start to feel a little unnerved when she continues to just stare at me in silence.

_It's a shame she's so fucking weird because she really is nice to look at._

"Yeah," Bella finally replies in defeat, fidgeting again. Her eyes flit to my backpack on the bed, before returning to my face. "Is that a 'no' because you're planning on going somewhere?"

I take a leaf out of her book and deflect with a question.

"Why? Are _you?"_

"Maybe."

_I'm so over this cryptic shit._

I sigh.

"Okay, this conversation is _super _fascinating, but lucky for me, I have an errand to run and you have some grand larceny to get underway." I start to close the door in her face, but she stops it with her palm.

"I didn't need your car for that, Edward, if that's what you're thinking," she insists.

"Are you sure?" I highly doubt it.

"Think about it. Why the fuck would I need a car to steal another car? There aren't two of me, so how would I drive _yours_ back as well?"

Bella has a point there. It wouldn't make any sense unless she wanted me to tag along, which I've already told her is out of the question.

"In that case, you can just take the bike for your usual midnight getaway, can't you?"

"Fine." She huffs and stalks across the hall back to her own room, turning and stopping in the doorway. "You're gonna have to stop being so helpful all the time, y'know," she adds as she closes the door.

I hear the lock click.

* * *

><p>Sweet Lord, I'm practically vibrating as I drive around the reservation like a creeper. I realize I probably should've taken a more thorough look at the map before I left, but I seriously figured the house surrounded by luminescent police tape wouldn't be all that easy to miss.<p>

The properties here are smaller and spread a lot further apart than in town; set back from the roads and shrouded in darkness provided by the surrounding woods.

A few anxious circles around the block later, and I finally spot the right one.

_Yes! _

I mentally fist pump the air, squinting as I drive by and note the expected lone police cruiser stationed in front of the dilapidated looking building.

I know I can't stop the car yet, because here is where shit could get tricky. Until crime scenes are released by authorities- particularly homicides- they are guarded 24/7 to minimize contamination. Lucky for me, this duty is usually dumped on inexperienced rookies who resent the task, and use it as an opportunity to catch up on sleep or reports.

I discretely park down the road, quickly grab my bag, and head into the surrounding woods. I need to find a way around the back of the house to avoid being seen by the cop out front. Trespassing on a murder scene practically screams _'I did it!'_, and I really don't have a viable excuse prepared. I doubt, _"Oh it's okay, Officer, I'm just the local homicide enthusiast," _would fly.

After muttering a stream of profanities at the noisy-ass foliage breaking under my tread, I finally reach the back porch of the house.

I know Jessica said the guy was dragged out into the woods, but there's no evidence of that here. If she's right, that can only mean he was dragged from the front of the house, which is more than disappointing.

Determined not to let this dampen my mood too much, I climb the stairs and pull out my gloves. They're these pretentious black, leather driving gloves that Alice bought me when I first got the Volvo. I'm sure she'd be mortified at how I've decided to utilize them, but at least I'm crime solving in style, right?

I tentatively reach for the handle of the back door, add a little pressure, and immediately feel like an idiot for being surprised when it's not conveniently unlocked. Preparation is essential; everyone knows that, so it's fucking ridiculous that I didn't account for this hurdle.

I tilt my head back, sigh, and bump 'Learn how to pick a lock' higher up my mental 'to do' list. This isn't going _at all_ how I'd hoped, and I'm starting to get that all too familiar frustrated, sulky feeling.

There are windows in the house, of course, but I get the feeling they're gonna be creaky as hell on a piece of crap structure like this.

I continue to stand there like tool; just looking up at the pitch-black sky and pretending that rubbing my forehead actually helps my thought process.

When I roll my head back on my shoulder to the left my eyes widen. I notice there's what looks like a garage with another door on the side.

_Thank you, baby Jesus!_

A smile creeps across my face as I approach it. I attempt to be quiet and I'm probably going overboard with the creepy-crawly, tiptoeing shit, but you can never be too safe. I chuckle quietly to myself as I imagine I resemble the fucking Hamburglar right now.

I reach for the handle, and it's a little stiff as I add pressure again, but I say a silent 'Hallelujah' when the door gives way. It creaks a little as I push it open, but I feel safe again after waiting a beat.

My shoes are muddy from the soggy ground outside, so I take them off and place them on the plastic bag I packed for this very reason.

The room stinks of peppermint, and is pitch black; meaning I can't see shit even when my eyes attempt to adjust. I debate which poses the greater risk; the possibility of the cop seeing my flashlight through a window? Or tripping over everything and loudly announcing my presence to him anyway?

I decide it's the latter and turn on a small flashlight I pull from my bag. I'm careful to keep it pointed toward the ground- even though I'm certain from the lack of visibility in here that there are no windows. The space is cramped, and when I move the light around, illuminating a tire, I realize why.

There's a huge rusty truck.

A huge rusty, _red _truck.

_Well, shit. _I raise both eyebrows.

My first thought is that Bella is going to be bouncing off the fucking walls with the possibility of getting her beloved truck back. My second thought is a sort-of relief; a relief that I'm not the only one who'll be benefitting from this guy's death.

I don't feel guilty, and really, why should I? I didn't kill the poor bastard; I'm just indulging a hobby, and that doesn't change anything about his situation.

_Moving on, Edward..._

I roll my eyes at myself.

I sidestep around the truck to a door I can only assume adjoins to the house, but freeze with the flashlight in place at what I see.

_There_- right in front of the door- is a _glorious_ set of bloody footprints. Boot treads, to be specific.

Bending down to get a closer look, I notice that there is something... off, about them. The prints aren't complete; they fade as they reach the roundness of the toe.

I pull a ruler from my bag of tricks and put it in place along the length of the prints to take my first _official_ crime scene photograph. As the flash goes off I get an overwhelming rush of adrenaline.

_Shit, we need more deviants around here._

I move the ruler along to mark the width of the prints and take another photo. There's only one set, and the feet are positioned exactly next to each other. My initial observation is that the killer was going to enter the garage, but changed his mind and went back inside the house. I make a note of this in the small notebook I packed and stand, pushing on my knees for leverage.

_What changed your mind?_

Trying to think, I turn and move the flashlight around the room, taking in what he would have seen. There's a tool rack on the opposite wall next to the door I came through, so maybe he was looking for a weapon? No, that wouldn't make sense, because the prints are made in blood, so the deed was already done.

Reminding myself that I can think about this stuff later, at my leisure later, I take a few more photos of the garage itself and open the door to the house.

It smells even stronger of peppermint, and is just as dark as it was in the garage, which doesn't make sense. There should be at least a small amount of light from the moon.

_Unless the curtains are drawn, idiot!_

Taking a chance, I move the flashlight to highlight the walls. This appears to be the kitchen and there are two windows to the right. The curtains are drawn on both and I can't believe my fucking luck!

I make a note that the murder must have occurred at night for this to be the case.

Emboldened that I'm safe from discovery, I switch the small flashlight for a larger one.

The brighter light allows me to see that the kitchen is small and basic, with dark wooden cabinets and plain chrome fixtures. A fridge hums in the corner and the display on the oven is flashing red digits. I idly wonder why the electric hasn't been shut off yet.

I'm careful to focus the light back on the floor before moving another inch- not for fear of being caught, but for fear of disrupting evidence. As expected the trail of footprints continues in here.

One set in, one set out.

Their reddish-brown color tells me they're dry, which I'm thankful for, since I don't have any of those booty things to cover my own prints if I stood in them accidently.

I take more pictures and tiptoe to the right kitchen counter underneath the window. Next to the sink I spot a crude wooden knife block on show, but none of the knives are unaccounted for.

_The killer came prepared?_

I might be jumping the gun here, but if I'm correct then this murder just got a shit-load more interesting. Bringing your own knife to the party suggests intent, and possible motives become a lot more complex than say, a heated argument just escalating out of control.

I silently acknowledge the fact I'm a completely morbid fuck for hoping I'm right.

Anxious to get to the 'good stuff', I follow the killer's trail into the living room. Other than the footprints, there doesn't appear to be anything relevant in this room. A couch, La-Z-Boy, a coffee table littered with sports magazines, TV, lamps, a worn rug.

Impatient, I decide to take these tedious photos on the way out, and round a corner into a small foyer.

_Holy shit!_

To my left I see the front door, complete with a lovely bloody door handle.

I take a deep breath and steadily move the flashlight along the length of the door, down to the ground where another large reddish-brown streak disappears underneath it. The stain is almost as wide as the door itself.

I follow its trail with the flashlight all the way to the foot of a staircase. I note the foyer floor is hardwood, but the stairs are carpeted in a dark blue color. The hue of the carpet makes the stain less visible and it only appears on the edge of each step, but I figure this is consistent with a body being dragged down them.

I begrudgingly acknowledge the fact that if I were an actual cop or CSI, I'd be able to check for fingerprints on the door, or fibre evidence. There's really no point in doing that now, since I have no fucking database to run them through. I reluctantly settle for more photographs, and make my way carefully up the stairs.

When I reach the top, I see there aren't many doors to choose from, but it's blatantly obvious which one holds my prize inside anyway.

Passing door number one, I open lucky door number two. I Smile at the curtains being closed in here also, and point the flashlight at the ground again to lead my way. I follow my trusty blood smear with the light, around the edge of a small bed, crossing the threshold of the room to follow it physically.

I can almost feel the adrenaline pulsing through my veins.

At the end of my rainbow I find a giant congealed blood pool to the left of the bed. To be honest, I'm surprised that shit hasn't leaked through the ceiling. The bed is soaked too, with the top sheet missing. The killer probably tried to wrap the body in it, _'tried' _being the operative word, because this has to be the sloppiest murder in recent history.

Shaking my head, I the shine light on the walls that reveal what I'm confident is medium-velocity blood spatter. Jesus, I know Alice said he was stabbed a bunch of times, but I thought she was exaggerating- she wasn't, because we're in serious double-digits here.

I slowly pivot on my heels, in awe as I take in the rest of the room. The sheer amount of spatter coating the walls- and even the curtains- screams that this was a crime of passion. The killer had some _definite_ rage.

"Who the hell did you piss off, dude?" I whisper to the empty room.

When I step back the sound of the floorboards creaking under my feet pierces the silence, and I realize I've been here for too long. The longer I stay, the higher the risk of being caught.

I take far too many photos, before conceding that I can always come back again later if needed, and head back downstairs. I document the foyer and living room in a rush, and retrace my footsteps back through the kitchen to the garage.

I'm not sure why I get a sudden panicky feeling while I'm putting on my shoes. It's not like I've had any indication that I'm about the get caught, but I feel it nonetheless. I admonish myself and take a deep breath, pushing the handle to let myself out into the fresh air.

It's fucking raining and I have to traipse through the woods, but it doesn't dampen my mood.

* * *

><p>Home at last and I can't wait to get out of these horrible damp clothes and begin analyzing my findings.<p>

I punch in the alarm code and decide to take a detour through the kitchen on my way to my room, having worked up an appetite. I stop short in the wide kitchen doorway.

_Fucking Bella._

She's casually perched on the granite breakfast bar in the same faded, gray T-shirt as earlier. She has the sleeves rolled up, and I can make out the words 'Forks P.D.' printed across her modest chest now. Her bare legs are crossed underneath her, and she has six bowls placed at equal distance around her, forming a semi-circle.

I'd probably find all that smooth-looking skin on display to be really fucking appealing if it wasn't for the giant box of Fruit Loops she's holding.

_My _giant box of Fruit Loops.

I observe her silently for a second, watching curiously as she reaches in the box, grabs a handful, and begins placing them in the different bowls. Each bowl corresponds to a color, I realize.

"The fuck are you doing?" I ask quietly, but still startle her.

When she sees it's just me she visibly relaxes, and any pre-conceptions I had about being intimidating quickly vanish.

"I've got to _eat _those when you're finished putting your paws all over them." I try to morph my expression into something resembling a scowl as I spit out the words.

Bella smirks, the bitch actually smirks as she dips her arm, elbow-deep, into the box again and raises another handful to her lips, spreading her fingers as she presses her palm against her mouth.

She's making a show of it.

"Are you even listening?" I fume.

"What?" she asks, feigning innocence.

"That's the only thing I eat!"

"Yeah, I noticed," Bella rolls her eyes and tilts her head to the side, "maybe if you'd lend me your car I'd have something more productive to do with my time here, wouldn't I?"

_Oh, that's just perfect._

I make the snap decision not to tell her about my little discovery earlier. If she wants that truck back she's gonna have to find it on her own- and I hope she gets fucking caught when she does.

"Are you dense? I've told you- under no circumstances are you driving my car, Bella."

"Fine," she says, swiftly parting the bowls aside with her arms, putting three at each side of her. She places her fingers around the edge of the counter and hops off it. I quickly turn my head to the side for fear that she subscribes to Jessica's 'No Panties' rule. As Bella's shirt falls to her knees I desperately remind myself that any sexual feelings towards my would-be sister are the last thing I need.

"What's wrong, Edward?" she says as she closes the distance between us, "is my being here ruining your perfect little existence?"

"It's not perfect," I retort automatically.

"No... of course not." Bella crosses her arms across her chest and takes a deep breathe. Her expression contorts from smugness into confusion, then anger. I'm fully aware that she's capricious, but this apparent mood swing is drastic, even for her.

Without another word, Bella narrows her eyes and moves briskly around me, darting up the stairs.

At a loss as to what the fuck just happened, I defeatedly grab one of the bowls- blue, I see- fill it with milk from the refrigerator and follow after her up the stairs.

I contemplate the wood of her closed door for a moment, bowl in hand, before realizing how stupid I'm being and entering my own room.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Soooo... *<em>Crickets* **

**Your thoughts, theories and questions make me creepy smile, just like Edward ;D  
><strong>


	6. Chapter Five

**Hello again, guys! **

**Gigantic thanks as always to my lovelies Chrissy, Landdownunder, and Ordinary Vamp. Their help with this little story is invaluable.**

**Suggested listening: **'The Only' by Lykke Li

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five:<strong>

**'D' is for...?**

* * *

><p>"Unit 12 requesting a 10-27."<p>

I'm spinning around in circles on my desk chair, thumbing through the pages trying to find the corresponding code.

_Are you fucking kidding me? _

I put my feet firmly on the ground to stop my motion, and wait a second for my brain to realign itself with my body.

_A licence check? _

It's been over a week and not _one_ single bulletin or lead on the scanner about the Quileute case. The first murder in Forks since fuck-knows-how-long, and the local PD are running around like headless chickens, wasting time with shoplifters and pranks.

It's embarrassing, frankly.

Frustrated, I flip the scanner off and resign for the morning. I'm gonna have to re-think its whole 'pride of place' on my desk. Grabbing my bag, I open the bedroom door and spy Bella across the hall. Her door is slightly ajar and she's sitting on the edge of her bed, biting on her thumbnail anxiously.

I always wonder how- or rather when- she gets home in order to avoid detection from my parents. Every night she slips away, but in the morning she's right back here, showered and perfect.

Okay, that's a lie; she's not always showered, and she's definitely not always perfect. Case-in-point: last week she showed up at school in the same set of clothes for two consecutive days. Needless to say, Jessica and Alice were mortified, and the rest of the student body were a little irked.

Personally? I have to commend her stunning lack of giving a shit. It certainly puts my own to shame.

_Yeah, don't bother telling her that._

I observe Bella for an extra moment while she's lost, oblivious in her own thoughts. She's clothed in her usual uniform, and the image spawns more questions for my list: Does mom actually let her buy this stuff? Or is Bella getting her supplies from some poor dude's closet?

As is always the case, unanswered questions only lead to more questions. Is said 'dude' her boyfriend? And if so, is _that _where she goes at night? It would make sense, I guess.

I let out an involuntary chuckle at the prospect of Bella having a secret boyfriend. Not to be a jerk or anything- because I can absolutely see how guys would go for her- but the girl is so fucking withdrawn and stuck in her own head that I find it hard to imagine there's someone with the patience.

I realize that I've made my presence known when I catch her gaze across the hall. I _also_ realize I didn't notice because I was busy doing the exact same thing I was just criticizing her for- floating in my own mind.

I feel awkward, even though I know she can't read my mind, so I decide to cut it with something simple.

"What's wrong?" I ask, trying to sound genuinely concerned.

"Nothing," she mutters, as she stands from the bed and begins to move toward me. Anyone else and you'd assume they were engaging in the conversation, but this is Bella, and I already know she's just coming to shut the door in my face.

"Is that why you look like you're gonna puke?" I tease.

Bella places her palm flat on the door and leans her head against its edge lazily, "Please… just-"

"Chop, chop, kids!" We hear mom yell up the stairs. We both turn our heads to the sound.

Bella doesn't finish her sentence, and instead uses the interruption as an opportunity to retreat inside her room. She swiftly pushes off the door and closes it behind her. It's a silent 'fuck off' that rings loud and clear.

_Suit yourself, _I think.

I turn and make my way down the two flights of stairs into the kitchen. As I walk, I debate the possibility that Bella could, or would, sneak into my room while I'm downstairs. She probably won't, but I make a mental note to ask dad for an external lock. I pat the keys in my pocket to make sure.

"Morning, darling!" Mom greets enthusiastically with a smile when I enter the kitchen. She scruffs my hair affectionately, and I swear dad's got her on something. No one should be this fucking perky in the morning. I spot Emmett pacing on the porch through the large kitchen windows, probably arguing with his spectacularly possessive college girlfriend, Rosalie. Alice isn't around.

"Morning, mom," I mumble.

"Here," she says, placing a glass of orange juice on the breakfast bar while I slip into my seat. "Drink up- and I need you to take Isabella to school with you this morning."

_Again!_

"Why can't she go with Alice?" I whine.

"Don't argue, Edward." She pours the milk into my bowl of Fruit Loops like I'm six years old again. "Alice and Bella are having... communication problems at the moment, so I need you to help out, okay?"

"Communication problems?" I enquire, looking up from my bowl.

"Yes, but that doesn't concern you, so just do as I ask." She doesn't even bother to pose the demand as a question.

Mom might be a pushover when it comes to dad, but not so much with us.

"Fine," I grumble, "but I'm not bringing her home."

"Her case worker is coming this afternoon, so you'll do whatever I need you to, Edward… and in a timely fashion." She smiles warmly at me on her way out the kitchen to let me know she's not genuinely annoyed.

I finish eating breakfast at a snail's pace to put off school and the ride I have to take to get there.

_Coffee, I need coffee._

* * *

><p>"That's what you're wearing?" I ask Bella as she closes the front door and shuffles along the gravel toward the car where I'm waiting.<p>

_That sounded _way _too much like Alice._

"What?" Bella asks, looking down at herself with her brow furrowed. She's holding her bag and hoodie in one arm whilst she tugs awkwardly on the hem of her dress with the other. She doesn't look bad or anything, she actually looks great and just… I don't know… different. Although she's still casual as ever, the sight of her in something feminine like this blue patterned dress is kind of weird. Her hair is tied up for once, showing off her features, and despite her clothes, she manages to still look tomboyish, with her worn sneakers and bare skinny legs.

"You just look different is all," I clarify as she frowns at me over the roof of the car.

_Easy there, Captain Charisma._

Ugh, I learned a long time ago that you never fucking comment on a girl's appearance, unless it's _entirely_ complimentary. Leave the slightest hint of doubt, and you'll have to start entertaining the prospect of corrective ball surgery.

"Crap, look, now my ego won't fit in your precious mom mobile," Bella deadpans with a roll of her eyes.

Relieved I didn't actually offend her, I let the Volvo jab slide, and watch as she puts on the grey hoodie before getting in the passenger seat. I join her in the car and start the engine.

"Seatbelt," I remind her with a nod when she doesn't reach for hers.

Bella complies, but lets out a petulant sigh as she does.

"What? You're too cool to keep your head out of the windshield now?" I tease again as we start to pull down the drive.

I hear the seatbelt click and wait for her imminent retort. She considers her options for a moment before throwing a curveball.

"You know what's fucked up?"

_Here we go…_

"A lot of things, Bella, but enlighten me."

_You included, _I add in my mind.

"Well, we avoid all these risks in life… just so we can make it safely to death." She frowns again.

_Note to self: Inform mom and dad she needs a name change on the adoption papers; something along the lines of 'Sunshine' or 'Hope'._

"Wow, you're a real fucking upper today."

"You disagree?" She asks openly.

"I didn't say that. I just think it's a little early for philosophical debates, don't you?" Clearly I just don't want to admit she has a valid point.

"I guess," she sighs, turning to gaze out the window.

I take my eyes off the road briefly and see that she's gnawing on her lower lip again. "What's up with you today, anyway? You're more… whatever it is you are, than usual."

"Well, I have this horrible dilemma," she sighs, pausing purposefully. "Some asshole keeps asking me what's wrong, and it's _really_ fucking irritating."

I chuckle despite myself. "Wow, that's truly awful, but I think you need to look up the definition of 'dilemma', smart ass. It's in the dictionary. Under the letter 'D'."

Bella turns to face me fully, drawing her legs up and resting them sideways on the edge of the seat. I have a feeling it doesn't bode well for me.

"I already did. It's right next to the definition for 'dickhead'," she smirks, "and if you'd let me finish, my dilemma is whether or not to believe he actually gives a shit, or…" she trails off.

"Or…?" I prompt.

"Orto fashion a shiv out of his stick shift and relieve his shoulders of that giant ego he calls a head." She looks pointedly at said stick shift.

I can't help but laugh. I know Bella has developed some misconceptions about me since we met, but this one is my favorite.

"Well, you still wouldn't get to use his car," I taunt.

My laughter quickly dies when I see her expression is completely serious. I acknowledge the fact that she might not be entirely joking, and that I shouldn't be putting shit like that in her head when I know how desperate she appears to be for a car. I also remind myself that she's spent a significant portion of her life in group-homes, and so she's probably pretty handy with a shiv.

"Relax, dude," she smiles, "I'm kidding."

"I know. I just realized it wasn't that funny."

"You'd make a terrible lawyer," she muses.

I don't bother to deny it, and we enter another of our patented silences for the remainder of our journey.

The parking lot is bustling with hormone-fueled activity when we pull in. I spot the usual crowds, and idly wonder which one Bella will eventually join. I'd figured it'd be Jessica's, but that's not going to happen if she has a problem with Alice, that much is certain. Maybe the stoners? She skips class enough.

"What's up with you and Alice?" I ask while I still have her cornered.

"Huh?"

"Mom said that's why I had to give you a ride; communication problems?"

"Oh," she sighs, "her weirdo boyfriend kept eyeballing me yesterday. Some hippy shit about a dark aura."

I raise an eyebrow in confusion. That doesn't sound like the lovesick Jasper I know, although he _is_ an unashamed hippy kid.

"Yeah, I have no fucking clue either," Bella concludes, getting out of the car. I grab my bag and follow her lead. Apparently I'm not the only one intrigued by her improved appearance this morning. Heads turn to stare.

"And what's up with the dress, too?" I ask, leaning down to her level as I walk by her side to the entrance.

_She smells good._

"It was my mother's. It's her birthday today. Is that okay with you?"

Oh god, I instantly feel like an asshole.

"Er, no. Yeah. It's nice. You look nice," I blurt, trying to backtrack, but her expression remains blank as she stares straight ahead. We climb the stairs and I hold the door open for her as she dips under my extended arm. I'm about to ask if she's actually coming to biology today, when she turns left into the corridor without a departing word.

_Oh yeah, thanks for the ride, Edward. _I think dryly as I watch her legs carry her toward her locker. I continue to stare after her as she fumbles with the combination.

"_Eddie!"_ I feel a hand clap me on the back, and turn to see it's Mike Newton and his obnoxious fucking face again. "How you doin', man?" He asks with a forced smile that looks physically painful.

"So, er," he continues when I regard him with only a condescending scowl. "Isabella. She seems pretty cool." He nods in her direction. "I was thinking, maybe… well, you live with her, right?"

I remain silent, making him stew in his awkwardness.

"You have her ear?" He asks, hopeful.

"Her ear?" I chuckle. "Yeah, it was a bitch to get the formaldehyde, but I scored this lovely antique jar for it."

I watch on, mildly amused as his lonesome brain cells struggle to keep up. He appears suitably disgusted when the penny finally drops.

"Ha! You're funny, bro." He grimaces. "Well, er, there's this bonfire down at the res this weekend, and I thought, y'know, maybe you could mention it to Bella?"

"You want me to hook you up?" I scoff.

"No, no! It's just, she's a little… hard to pin down, and just… could you warm her up for me?"

"Warm her up?" I ask, being purposely obtuse and thoroughly enjoying how uncomfortable it's making him.

"Yeah, y'know…" he trails off, nodding his head to the side suggestively like I'm supposed to know what that means.

"Sure," I laugh, but he doesn't seem to get that I'm laughing _at _him.

"Awesome! Thanks, I owe you, man!" He smiles in victory, before raising his fist in the air for me. I stare at it blankly, not willing to engage him further, and sidestep around him to go find my own locker.

"Awesome!" I hear him repeat after me.

Obviously, I have no intention of following through, but I deliberate whether to call Jess later and inform her of her noble prince's plans. I decide against it. I haven't gotten any action since the start of summer and saying 'I told you so' isn't going to garner any sexual favors from her.

I make it to my locker and I'm busy stuffing my bag inside when I feel a presence lingering at my side.

"Hey, Edward." I turn absently and see Tyler Crowley stood grinning to my left. "So, you and Isabella talk, right?"

_Fucking…_ _Really?_

* * *

><p>A few long hours and requests to help get in Bella's pants later, and it's finally the end of biology.<p>

I've been chomping at the bit to reveal my CSI escapades to Mr. Banner, but I'm wary he might be obligated to inform the authorities if I do. A few details have been leaked to the press, so we've at least been able to discuss those. Even with his insights and my own supplementary knowledge, I've yet to gain any kind of upper hand on the police. The incomplete shoe prints have been gnawing at my mind in particular, and so I decide to bounce it off Mr. Banner.

"Hypothetically," I begin.

_Shit how do I word this?_

"Well, you know when you get out of the shower?"

He nods, and I'm sure he thinks I'm going to ask him something inappropriate.

"Your wet footprints are incomplete, right? The arch of your foot and pressure distribution make them that way, but when you wear shoes, the sole is entirely flat, and so you get a complete print."

"Yes, that's right," he agrees, probably wondering where the hell I'm going with this.

"So, _hypothetically_, what would be a reason for a shoe print- a boot, for example- to be incomplete? On the toes?"

"Oh." He smiles knowingly. "Well, _hypothetically,_ I'm not sure. I've heard of infants who walk constantly on tiptoe, but never just the heel. I imagine that would be quite painful to keep up." He thinks on this for a moment, as do I. "Hmmm, I suppose…"

"Yes?" I prod eagerly.

"Well, the completeness of the print would depend on pressure and weight distribution, like you said. So in theory, if a person is wearing the wrong size shoe, that could happen."

_Oh!_

"Wait, it'd have to be a significantly larger size though, right?"

"Yes," he nods.

"And so it'd be possible to work out the genuine size of the person's feet!" I exclaim.

"Yes," he chuckles at my enthusiasm.

"Thank you!" I gush, "Sorry, I really have to get home now, but thank you!" I feel like I could hug him or something, but I'm know neither of us need the lawsuit.

"Anytime, Edward, and just to let you know, I'll be taking the liberty of informing your parents of Miss Swan's absences, since the office is paying it no mind. I apologize if it'll cause any tension at home for you."

"No, that's fine. Thanks for the heads up, Sir. See you tomorrow!" I jog quickly down the hall to the exit, aware that I'm fifteen minutes late and Bella is gonna be pissed.

When I let myself out through the double-doors into the chill, I see my car is one of only three left in the lot. Bella is nowhere in sight.

_Shit._

I pull my cellphone from my jean pocket, before remembering she doesn't actually have a phone of her own that I can call her on. I take a left and head toward the back of the gym where I found her before. I pray she's just having a smoke while she waits, but I find she's not there either.

_Shit, shit, shit._

I run a hand through my hair in frustration. Would it really have been that fucking hard for her to just wait by the car? Walking back to the lot I stare at my phone and consider my options. Mom and Dad are gonna shit if I go home empty handed again.

"Bella?" I call out when I reach my car. "Bella!" I look around the campus grounds.

Nothing.

Maybe Alice took her home after all? But if I call to check and find she's not there, I'll be busted and-

_Fuck! The social worker!_

She's coming today! Of all the days Bella could disappear on me, and she chooses today.

_Oh god, I'm in so much shit._

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading. I can't wait to hear your thoughts, if you decide to leave them :)<strong>

**Also, Bella's dress from this chapter can be found on my profile page.**


	7. Chapter Six

So much for _"Updates will be every Wednesday,"_ huh? Unfortunately the chapter bank is now officially empty. There shouldn't be _that_ much difference in the regularity, but that's just a theory- and one that doesn't take into account the mushiness of my brain.

Crippling hugs to **Chrisska **for beta'ing this mess, as well as **OrdinaryVamp **and **Landdownunder** for pre-reading. They really make a difference to the coherency. Special thanks also to **Perrymaxed **for her research-y type help with this chapter.

**Suggested listening: **'Jigsaw Falling into Place' by Radiohead

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><p><strong>Chapter Six:<strong>

'**Cheshire Cat'**

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><p><em>"Edward!"<em> My mother admonishes through gritted teeth. It's like she appeared out of thin fucking air! Approaching briskly, her heels clicking, she grabs and tugs my arm before I've even made it through the door. "Where have you been?" she whispers. "Where's Bella?" Mom peers anxiously over my shoulder before tutting loudly and physically moving me out of her way.

I try to avoid eye contact, patiently waiting for her to realize I'm alone.

"Edward," she warns. "Where is Bella?"

I close my eyes and roll my head back against my shoulders, clutching the car keys firmly in my hand.

"Well?" She persists, a stern mix of anger and panic lacing her tone.

I let my head roll forward, leaving it to hang there, but still refusing to open my eyes. "She's… I don't know. She's not here." I sigh, braving a look up.

"What do you _mean _she's not here?" I can't help but flinch, despite knowing full well what is coming.

I respond only with silence, legitimately feeling five years old again; caught with a sticky, chocolate-covered mouth.

"Edward! I asked you to do _one _thing!" Mom fumes, all the while trying to keep her volume down. "You _knew_ her case worker was coming today!"

I have no idea why, but I feel like her hushed tone is much worse than if she were all out yelling.

"I don't fucking know where she is! Okay?" I snap, instantly regretting it. I don't need to look at my mother's face to know the hurt there. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I revoke hastily. "I really am, but honestly, I waited in the parking lot for fucking _ages, _mom! I searched the entire campus!"

And I did. For forty fucking minutes I searched high and low for Bella. I even looked in the girls' bath and locker rooms, which yielded nothing but old spanx and a coughing fit from all the skanky perfume.

"When did you see her last?" Mom asks, putting aside other emotions in favour of her maternal instincts.

I consider her question for a moment, and realize I haven't actually seen Bella since this morning at her locker. Lunch consisted of my usual, albeit frustrated, preoccupation with the res murder notes. I'm certain I didn't see her, and no doubt if I had, I would've paid at least a _little _attention. A glance or simple acknowledgment of her presence.

"This morning, when I gave her a ride," I answer honestly.

"That's it?" She asks in disbelief. "What about lunch? And you have a class with her, don't you?"

"Er…" I stall, not sure why I'm reluctant to rat Bella out. "She hasn't exactly-"

The phone echoes loudly in our ears, bouncing off the walls of our sparsely decorated lobby. I feel a welcome flood of relief; glad to be momentarily free of my mother's interrogation. She retrieves the phone from the small bureau behind her, but never removes her eyes from mine.

"Cullen residence." The greeting is sharper than usual. "Speaking." The person on the other end of the line talks for an extended period. She continues to eyeball me suspiciously, only grunting her responses.

"I see."

I begin to fidget, the relief of my reprieve quickly wearing off when I sense the conversation coming to and end.

"Mmm-hmm" Mom nods, forgetting she's on the telephone. "Thank you, I appreciate your informing me, Mr. Banner."

I feel my throat close.

_Fuck! Of all the shitty timing!_

The phone clicks as mom places it back in the cradle. "That was your biology teacher, Mr. Banner," she begins, like I don't already know who he is. She turns fully toward me and folds her arms across her chest. Her tone is eerily calm now. "Were you going to tell me Isabella has yet to show up for his classes?" She doesn't give me chance to answer before she continues, "not one single class, Edward!"

Jesus, I just want to be done with this bullshit. Be done and upstairs in my room, away from all the unjustified hostility being directed toward me.

"It's not my fucking fault, okay!" I snap because I've had enough. The curse falls harsh, even on my own ears. "_You_ brought her here!" I continue, "You and dad. You brought this stranger into our home, and it's entirely un-_fucking_-fair that I'm getting the blame for her!"

Mom just stares back at me with wide eyes; clearly shocked at my outburst. I admit I'm little shocked at myself too. Lizzy always used to say if I got anymore laid back I'd be asleep, yet here I am, yelling at my own fucking mother.

I take her silence as opportunity to vent some more pent up frustrations I hadn't fully realized.

"You didn't seriously expect this to work out, did you?" I spit. "That girl couldn't give a flying fuck that you bothered to take her in! Hell, you didn't even really do_ that_, because she sleeps somewhere else every night!"

"That's quite enough, Edward." My father comes to stand behind mom, placing a supportive, yet domineering hand on her shoulder. "Go to your room."

I hesitate for a second, battling the feeling of injustice and my urge to defy them.

"Now." He commands, asserting his authority with a glare.

"Fine," I retort before turning and walking to the foot of the stairs, but I pause when a glimpse of movement catches the corner of my eye. To my left, perched awkwardly on the grey living room couch, is a woman in her mid-thirties clutching a manila folder and a notebook. It's obvious from the judgment crossing her face that she's the caseworker, and has heard at least _some _of our conversation_._

She clicks her pen.

I continue up the stairs, not stopping to feel guilty about any repercussions my parents might face from this particular visit. Honestly, it'd be better for everyone if Bella were removed from their care.

"Sorry about that Miss Warner. Let's move to the privacy of my office, shall we?" I hear dad mitigate as I climb the stairs.

I discard my bag haphazardly on the bed as I storm in to my room, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind me to complete my temper tantrum.

Running both hands through my hair, I stand at the foot of the bed and contemplate the bag.

_Fuck it._

Grabbing the pack of smokes from the side pocket, I light one up without a second thought about opening the balcony door.

Pacing, inhaling. I try to reflect on what the hell just happened. My thoughts all lead to one word, and that word begins with the letter 'B'. I allow myself to fantasize for a moment; just picturing how I'll confront her when she finally shows her face again. The images range from unrestrained anger to bitter passive aggression. Experience tells me it'll be a while before she actually returns, and so I'm leaning toward the latter.

I relish the calming effect of the nicotine circulating my bloodstream as I try to gather my thoughts with little success. The smoke swarming in the air and the ash about to fall and burn the carpet prompt my movement out onto the balcony.

The fresh air hits, as does the sound of someone clearing their throat. I walk to the left and lean on my elbows against the steel balcony banister, brow furrowed as I follow the sound to a window below me.

It hits me instantly.

They're downstairs_, right now,_ discussing Bella in all her glory.

_The hell am I doing?_

This is a ripe opportunity to get some dirt on Bella's shady ass. If I have any chance of getting rid of her at all I need to be prepared; have knowledge to back up my case.

_Thank you, Law and Order._

Without further hesitation, I discard my cigarette over the edge of the balcony with a flick of my finger and thumb, heading quickly downstairs. I'm careful to slow and lighten my tread as I pass by dad's office on the second floor.

I make my way outside and around the side of the house, berating myself for not putting on a hoodie in this cold-ass weather, but time is of the essence. I see the cigarette I flicked earlier still smouldering on the gravel below my balcony, and turn to look up at the second story window. It's slightly ajar, and for once I'm thankful for my mother abusing the central heat.

_"Record… delay… red tape…"_

I can only pick up every other word of their conversation at this distance.

_Shit. _I scowl.

I spin on the heel of my sneakers, frantically looking around for anything I can use to give me height. Coming up short, I walk with a huff around to the porch and grab one of the steel chairs there with both hands. Raising it above my head, I tiptoe back to beneath the window.

Placing the chair down firmly, I climb upon it and tilt my head up as close as possible to the window opening.

_"I see." _I hear an unfamiliar female voice that I can only assume is the caseworker, Miss Warner. _"And there have been no more issues with her medication, correct?" _She continues.

_Oh, god. I'm already breaking the law._

_"No, she's entirely compliant, but you should be aware that I'll be reviewing her prescriptions once I look over the records." _Dad is in full doctor-mode.

There's a beat of silence, before the woman tentatively asks, _"You've discussed this with her psychiatrist?" _

_"As of yet, no. She's only attended two session and your office has been unable to provide the medical history required for such a decision, until present." _

Ladies and gentlemen: my father, the passive aggressor.

_"I understand." _There's a prolonged silence in which I figure she's jotting down her notes. _"And how have you found Bella to be on a personal level? In social interactions with yourselves and your family?"_

_"She's shy, but engaging and polite," _Mom chimes in. I'd almost forgotten Mom was in the room with Dad's suffocating presence. _"Emmett and Alice have taken a shining to her." _I can hear the smile in her voice.

_"And your other son, Edward?"_

_"Oh, he's having a little trouble warming up, but he was like that with the others, too. It's not a reflection on Bella, he's just very introverted." _

_Introverted? _I scoff.

_"I see. That's wonderful news- and a drastic improvement, I might add, considering her previous behaviour toward peers in foster and grou-"_

_"Well, Miss Warner,"_ Dad interjects, "_people reflect their surroundings. Bella understands she could have a home here. It's only natural that the positive change in her life be outwardly expressed." _

_"I fully agree, Dr. Cullen, but as you know, Isabella has deep-rooted trauma that cannot simply be fixed by a comfortable bed."_

_Touché, Miss Warner. _

I thoroughly wish I could see the look on Dad's face right now. Their tit-for-tat use of formal names is only adding to the tension.

_"I'm sure I don't have to remind you, as a member of the health profession yourself, that any inaccuracies or elaborations you report can only hinder her progress," _Miss Warner adds.

_"No, you don't, but as I'm sure _you _know, Bella is unlikely to make any progress at all whilst under the influence of heavy medication."_

Even I can see he's deflecting, but she takes the bait anyway.

_"The medication is required to prevent further violent outbursts and harm to others, Dr. Cullen. Whilst your sympathy toward her is well-deserved, your trust is not."_

_"If we don't trust her, she won't trust u-"_

_"Are you sure you wouldn't like something to drink, Miss Warner?" _My mother interrupts, lamely trying to disperse the tension.

_"Thank you, Mrs. Cullen, I'm fine. Lets move on to a positive, shall we? I see Isabella has gained weight?"_

_"Hmm-hm, five pounds! She has quite the appetite!" _Mom readily agrees, but I can only laugh at her assertion. Yes, Bella is a total greedy fuck at the dinner table, but anyone with an ounce of sense can see it's because she's rushing to be somewhere else. Not because she wants to make 'progress'.

_"That's wonderf-"_

_"It's a side-affect of the medication."_

_Jesus, dad._

_"You think so?"_

"_I know so."_

My attention is drawn away from the meeting slash argument by the sound of footsteps along the drive.

I do a mental role call; Alice is at Jasper's, Emmett is at football practice, mom and dad are obviously upstairs. It can only be Bella… or a salesman.

I don't actually know which one I'm hoping for.

With this in mind, I hop down from the chair quickly and peer around the corner, fully aware of how fucking stupid I look. I spy Bella casually strolling toward the house.

She has her hands shoved in the pockets of her grey hoodie, but her bare legs are still exposed and I can't help but feel her pain as she shivers against the chill. Although I'm thrown a little off kilter by her coming back so soon, I'm more confused by what she does next.

When she reaches the foot of the porch stairs Bella shakes her hands out at the wrist, taking a deep breath. The sullen expression I'm so used to seeing grace her face is suddenly morphed into a sweet smile. She nods her head to herself and hops three times on the balls of her feet, reminiscent of a boxer hyping themselves up for a fight.

Before I can confront her, she jogs up the stairs and disappears inside the house.

I scramble back to the chair, desperate to see how this charade will play out.

_"_…_walk, it was nice out." _I hear the tail end of Bella's reply through the window opening. It's a reply to what I can only assume was a variation on "You're late. Where the fuck have you been?"

_"Isabella, it's so nice to see you again. You look well," _Miss Warner says. "_How are you settling in?"_

_"Great. The Cullens are wonderful people." _

_"And how is school?" _ Miss Warner dives straight in.

_"Great. I'm enjoying meeting all the new people." _My mouth involuntarily drops open. It's like she's an entirely different person. Clearly Bella isn't aware that Mr. Banner already busted her.

_"Well, that's good a note to end on, since I'm afraid we've overrun our appointment. Thank you, Dr and Mrs Cullen_." I assume they're shaking hands in the silence that follows._ "And I hope to see you present for our next meeting, Isabella," _she adds in a lower tone. Playful, yet authoritative.

_"Yes, of course," _Bella replies smoothly.

_How?_

I jump from my perch on the chair and quickly dart back inside, leaving it behind. I take the stairs two at a time, desperate to beat their exit from the office. I manage to make it, and when I reach my room, I slip inside and lean against the doorframe as casually as possible in my heightened state. While I wait, I think about how deceitful I've just realized Bella actually is.

_A shark in the pool._

After a few long minutes I finally hear it- the sound of feet ascending the stairs.

I see Bella begin to pass into her own room.

_Oh no, you fucking don't!_

I grab her roughly by the wrist and yank her into my room, slamming the door shut behind us. She takes a moment to get her bearings before pushing away from my chest dramatically.

"Wha-?"

"Where the fuck _were_ you?" I yell, cutting her off.

"What?"

"I waited. I looked for you after school. Where were you?"

"Calm the fuck down, man! What's wrong with you?" She asks with wide eyes.

_"You _are what's wrong! You and your little disappearing acts! Do you have any idea how much shit you put me in?"

"Really? That's it?" She scoffs. "I waited for you by the car, Edward. You never showed so I just made my own way back."

"It doesn't take _two fucking hours_ to walk back from school, Bella!" I retort.

"I took a detour."

"A detour where?"

"It doesn't fucking matter. Look, I'm sorry for upsetting the delicate balance of your life, but I have bigger shit to deal with." She turns her back on me, reaching for the door handle.

It incenses me.

Her casual dismissal is infuriating and I abruptly stop her exit by slamming my hand against the wood above her shoulder.

"Where were you?" I ask again, leaning in and lowering my tone to almost a whisper as I speak directly into her ear.

I can't help but notice how nice her hair smells again.

"It's none off your fucking business."

"It's my business when I'm getting blamed for the irresponsible shit you do." I insist.

"So? What? You're gonna get grounded for a week? Big _fucking _deal." Bella taunts, turning and leaning her back against the door. She splays her hands against the wood, smirking. "I'll be out of your life soon enough, Edward, so stop getting your panties in such a fucking bunch and just bide your time, okay?"

"Bide my time?"

"Yeah, a few months… give or take."

"I can't put up with your shit that long."

"Well _boo _for you, because you don't have a choice," she asserts, tilting her jaw up defiantly.

I'm stumped for a witty retort as I realize the position we're in is kind of precarious for our supposed brother-sister relationship. My eyes fall to her lips again.

"Are you done?" She smirks condescendingly.

I choose to bite my tongue rather than utter something I might regret.

I step backwards, removing my palm from the door and my face from its close proximity to hers. Anger pulses through my veins as I watch her turn and exit the room, quickly disappearing inside her own across the hall.

I take a deep breath.

_That's it. I'm so over this bullshit._

* * *

><p><strong>Ruh-roh! <strong>

**Thank you for reading! :)**


	8. Chapter Seven

Immeasurable thanks to Chrisska for betaing this and almost suffocating me with poop jokes in the process. Thanks also to the lovelies that are OrdinaryVamp and Landdownunder for pre-reading *hugs*

**Suggested listening:** 'Daydreaming' by Dark Dark Dark

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven:<strong>

**'Rabbit Season'**

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><p>The caseworker's visit means dinner is later than usual. Save for the time- and Dad being kind enough to grace us with his actual presence of course- everything is the same. The same candles, the same noxious food, the same stilted conversation.<p>

People really are predictable, but I guess I'm kind of relying on that fact tonight.

I think my plan is pretty decent, and Bella is sweet enough to help it pan out as I watch her sit across from me, courteously sticking to her routine of rushing dinner. Alice and Emmett are chatting shit about their various afterschool activities, whilst Mom listens intently, and Dad feigns interest. I absently push the food around my plate, smiling a little as I consider the reaction I'd get if I decided to divulge my own extracurriculars to the table.

"Find something amusing, son?" Dad asks, taking me off guard. I hadn't realized I was under surveillance.

"Yeah, actually." I lift my plate to reveal the goofy face I've made in the spaghetti sauce.

He shakes his head in admonishment. "It's about time you grew up, Son."

"He's try-"

"So are you coming to the bonfire this weekend?" Alice inquires brightly, cutting off Mom's defense and thankfully nipping what was sure to be an argument in the bud.

"No, he's grounded. Indefinitely." Dad interjects.

_News to me._

Man, I feel so honored to be Bella's fall guy. What a privilege.

"Maybe Bella would like to go?" Mom not so subtly encourages, taking a large gulp of her wine.

Awkward silence ensues as Alice grimaces and Bella attempts to discretely roll her eyes. Their 'communication issue' clearly hasn't been resolved yet. It doesn't take a genius to work out that Alice at the bonfire means Jasper at the bonfire, which equals an unwelcome Bella.

"Would you, dear?"

"Um, maybe next time, Esme," Bella mumbles, plastering on a weak smile, avoiding Alice's gaze at all cost.

Emmett manages to break the tension with talk of his whiny-ass girlfriend, and eventually we finish the main course- or not, in my case- with Bella and Alice dutifully helping Mom clear the plates.

Around now is where Bella usually excuses herself from dessert, but Dad halts her exit, standing to wipe his mouth with his napkin before discarding it on the table.

"That was delicious, sweetheart," he thanks Mom with a quick peck to her cheek. "Isabella? A word in my office?"

Mom appears mildly surprised by his request, so I'm guessing he didn't bother to run this by her beforehand. Bella replies with only a meek nod, following him obediently from the room and up the stairs. Maybe he saw through her bullshit excuses after all? I seriously hope so, although grounding her seems pretty redundant at this point. She never actually goes anywhere, not anywhere they know about at least. I'm confident I'll be able to rectify that tonight.

I move to excuse myself so I can follow them, but the opportunity to use my amazing eavesdropping skills again is swiftly snuffed out as mom insists I stay seated to try the pecan pie.

_Foiled by pie? Astounding._

I make a half-hearted attempt to try and finish the revolting desert. It's practically impossible to keep the sour look from my face as I chew, but my effort is rewarded when she finally excuses me from the table. That only happens, however, after she elicits a promise to engage in 'family time' later in the evening.

Ascending the stairs to my room, I chuckle quietly to myself, overhearing Mom questioning my siblings about a certain missing porch chair.

When I reach the bedroom I eagerly begin to set my trap; just wishing that I had a Dali-esque 'tache to twirl to complete my mood. Pulling the beloved Volvo car keys from my pocket, I place them down on my bedside table, directly underneath the light of the lamp. I hope, or figure, it'll act as a giant neon arrow for her, yet not be too obvious.

Adjusting the bedroom door so it's as wide open as possible, I slip inside the bathroom that connects to my room and roll up my sleeves to turn on the shower. I'm completely skeptical that it'll actually work, but I tip the toothbrush and paste from their glass container into the sink, placing the empty glass between my ear and the closed door.

I sit there for what feels like hours, but holding the glass against my ear like that eventually begins to hurt. I discard it in favor of just leaning my head and back against the door, knees drawn and bent.

More time passes, and I'm sure that if anyone could actually hear the shower they'd be certain I was attempting the record for 'Longest Wank Ever'.

* * *

><p><em>You're supposed to wait two to three minutes before rinsing conditioner? Huh.<em>

Bored to tears and having thoroughly read the back of every hygiene product in the bathroom, I reluctantly give up. The watch on my wrist says it's almost eight, and I'm due downstairs.

Accepting the complete failure of my plan, I sigh and replace the various shampoos and shower gels, opening the bathroom door to stroll toward the bed.

I go to pick up the keys and really can't help the giant smile that creeps across my face as I do. I hold the keys up in the air for inspection, tilting my head to the side as I take a mental inventory. Still smirking, I run the tip of my tongue over my teeth as I note the discrepancy.

_Oh, Bella. _I shake my head.

I think maybe this is where I'm supposed to clap my hands together with evil glee, but I refrain myself.

With my mood thankfully out of the shitter, and honestly, feeling rather smug with myself, I make my way downstairs. I begin to wonder why I didn't hear her take the keys. I know that room inside and out, and there are at least two creaky floorboards in the space between my door and the nightstand.

_Well, she'd make a stellar cat burglar_, I muse.

Once in the living room, I decide it's beside the point and try to wipe the victorious look from my face. I spot Alice and Jessica curled up on one of the couches together, thoroughly enthralled by the images playing out on the TV screen. I'm beyond ashamed to admit that I know they're watching 'Gossip Girl' without being told.

_Jesus, I need to get out of this house; preferably _before_ I start menstruating._

"Hey," I greet them out of necessity as I take a seat on the opposite couch. I stretch my legs out to rest on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles, groaning as I do. Sitting on that tiled bathroom floor for hours wasn't the best idea I've ever had.

Alice and Jess can't bring themselves to look away from the screen, but do manage to muster a half-hearted 'hey' in unison.

_Fucking drones._

Long minutes pass in silence as I stare at the surrounding forest through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them. It's almost comical to watch them snap out of their aforementioned trance when the commercials come on.

"What's up, Eddie?" Jess asks, lazily sitting up from her slouch against Alice.

I narrow my eyes at her.

"Sorry, _Edward._"

"Nothing, as usual. You guys seen Bella around?" I ask the question as casually as possible, wary of showing too much interest.

They share a knowing glance before Alice answers, "why? Don't tell me you actually want to be around that weirdo?"

"Weirdo?" I ask, although I'm totally guilty of referring to her as that in my head a few times.

"Er, yeah!" Jess exclaims, like I'm mentally impaired.

"You haven't noticed?" Alice adds. "That girl is Loony Tunes. She flipped out and threw a mug at Mom while you were upstairs hiding in your _lair_."

"What?"

"Yeah, a mug full of _hot tea_, Edward! She, my dear brother, is completely fucked up. She could've really hurt Mom."

"I don't understand."

"Well, she was just trying to be nice, y'know? Making us some herbal tea? Bella flipped out and launched the cup straight past her head. Ugh! I know we're supposed to feel sorry for her and everything, but really?"

I nod noncommittally. I guess this is what the social worker was talking about with the whole 'violent outbursts' thing? But she's supposed to be on medication, right? And my mother is the least threatening person in the world. I can't imagine what she did to incite that kind of reaction from Bella.

"Is mom okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. She brushed it off and is '_talking it out' _with Bella in the kitchen." Alice makes those stupid finger quotes, nodding her head back toward the kitchen entrance.

Great. Now it'll be obvious if I get up to investigate.

"I'm telling you, Al, if you'd known her before she went AWOL you wouldn't even recognize her. I mean, I played in the sandbox with that girl, we had sleepovers! And now she's like, this whole other person."

"You mean she had a personality?" Alice snickers.

I just sit in the chair, silently judging them both as they throw out conflicting names like 'zombie' and 'psycho'. I'm not about to jump to Bella's defense any time soon- Lord knows she's a pain in _my_ ass, but I also know Alice and Jess too well. Their aversion to Bella is no doubt rooted in the fact that she didn't scream her gratitude from the rooftops when they invited her to sit with them for lunch. The attention Bella has been receiving from the general penis population doesn't exactly help either.

I notice the TV ads have finished whilst I was thinking, and the girls have their heads fixated back on the screen. My problem is solved and so I stand, convinced they won't register my exit as I make my way toward the kitchen.

"… _remember, Bella? Something that brought this on?" _I overhear my mother plead.

I linger behind the doorway, not willing to make my presence known. There's a brief silence before she tries again. _"I know what it's like to lose someone, Bella. To have them taken from you and for it to leave a hole in your heart."_

"_Is that a question or a monologue?" _Oh, the claws are out. _"Did you even _read_ my file? I've told _you_ and a _million_ others, I don't remember." _Bella's reply is delivered with more collective emotion than I've seen her exhibit the entire time she's been here.

"_We're just trying to help, sweetie. You can't heal if you don't confront it."_

"_There's nothing to heal, nothing to confront. I don't remember."_

"_Okay, I understand that." Mom pauses. "And It's difficult to face what you've been through-" _The sharp sound of wood screeching on tile reverberates from the walls. "_Bella? Bella, please don't run, I'm-"_

My mother's sentence is cut short as her attention is diverted to my presence in the kitchen doorway. Mine is focused to the right, on the garage door swinging shut.

"Edward, dear," she says with a sigh. "I'm sorry, would you fetch Bella back for me? Your father had to go to the hospital and-"

"Of course," I acquiesce without a second thought, although how I'm going to do that exactly escapes me. She's in the garage and has my car keys in her possession.

_Fuck, can you say backfire?_

I'd planned on taking the spare key to Dad's Mercedes from his office to follow her later, but I hadn't accounted for the possibility of him being on call.

Taking brisk steps, I jog down the stairs into the garage just in time to see Bella making her escape on my bike.

_The hell?_

It's absolutely beyond me why she chose to take the bike when she could've easily taken my Volvo instead.

Confused as shit, I consider my options. She'll be long gone by the time I run upstairs and ask Alice for the keys to her car.

_Shit._

I reluctantly eyeball my sister's old bike that stands propped in the corner.

_No. _I argue with myself.

With a sigh, I give up all sense of pride as I grab the tiny bike and sit upon the saddle, setting off behind Bella. I wobble all over the place at first, struggling to get my balance as the image of a clown on a tiny motorcycle makes its way into my brain.

I gain some distance on her and desperately try not to think about how pink the bike is. How the front basket is full of Barbies. How it has glittering tassels on the handles. How fucking mortified I'd be if anyone spotted me riding this monstrosity.

Taking deep breaths, I follow behind Bella down the dark, deserted roads, for once thankful that we live in a Podunk town and everyone seems to hit the sack early.

Given her speed and the specific turns she makes, it becomes apparent that Bella has an actual destination in mind, eventually slowing her pace as she pulls out of town and onto a residential street. I struggle to slow down in time at the end of the road, but I do, managing to evade detection.

Intrigued, I watch on from the shadows as she hops off the bike and haphazardly lets it fall against the sidewalk. The house she's stopped in front of is creepy as hell, all boarded up with peeling white paint.

I belatedly connect the dots, realizing that I know this house. This is the 'Swan House'. The house that kids now tell horror stories about. The house where her parents were fucking bludgeoned to death.

I can't even begin to comprehend why she'd come back here. Then again, this is where Carlisle found her, right? On the porch? But why the fuck would she come back again?

I slip off the bike saddle and steadily guide it down the road, closer to her. Bella strolls across the drive, and I watch as a small, grey cat seems to appear from nowhere. It skips up to her, curling itself around her bare legs affectionately as she tries to walk.

My brow furrows. It's like it knows her or something. My suspicions are confirmed when she reaches down to pet it, actually smiling and saying something I can't hear. Bella disappears around the side of the house, and I run to catch up.

Discarding my own pathetic excuse for a bike next to hers, I follow around the side of the house. The path is seriously overgrown with weeds, and the further I walk, the harder it is to see and not trip.

Eventually I make it into the backyard and see that the house is also boarded up at the back, as you'd expect, all but for one window on the left.

Utilizing my newly acquired Hamburglar crawl, I make my way as quietly as possible to underneath the 'open' window. There's a wooden board that has clearly been removed from it, propped up against the side of the house next to a crowbar.

I raise an eyebrow.

_Oh, I see._

I try to push all Peeping Tom-type thoughts from my mind as I peer through the half-open window.

It's pitch black, and there isn't a sound to be heard.

I begin to think I might've been led on a wild goose chase, that I've lost her, but my fears are allayed when the room suddenly becomes illuminated. I watch, my eyes adjusting, as Bella lights a few lanterns scattered on various surfaces. There are some on the floor, and a couple higher up. They're the kind you use for camping, and I have to wonder where she got them all.

As more of the room is engulfed by a warm glow, I realize it's actually a kitchen I'm looking at as I spy a sink and oven to the right. The cat now sits high on one of the counters, meowing at her loudly.

"Shhhhsh," Bella soothes, petting it on the head whilst she moves to open one of the cupboards. She frowns as she reaches in and pulls out a small, metallic package.

_Cat food?_

"Sorry, dude, this is the last one."

I continue to watch as Bella empties the food onto a plate that she grabs from the cupboard, placing it down on the floor for him. While the cat tucks in, Bella leans her back against the counter, gripping it with both hands behind her. She takes a long, deep breath as she slides down to sit on the floor next to him. "We fucked up, huh?"

She draws her legs up to rest her head upon them, effectively hiding her face.

Bella sits like that for a few minutes, rolling her head to the side occasionally, and I really couldn't feel like more of a creeper right now. I move to go, but at that moment she decides to stand and turn to open a different cupboard.

_Okay,_ I promise myself,_ we'll see what she's doing, and _then _we'll go._

Bella reaches up on her tiptoes and pulls out a pack of smokes, lighting one and leaving it to hang from her lips. She reaches back into the same cupboard again, bringing out a small bowl this time and placing it on the counter.

After staring for a long moment, she grabs a couple of what looks like pills from the bowl, and quickly places them on her tongue, confirming my suspicion. She swallows them dry, making the requisite face and shaking her head side-to-side.

"Ack!"

The cat doesn't acknowledge her troubles, and continues to scarf down his dinner.

_Clearly this is where she picked up her table manners._

Bella watches him with an increasingly vacant expression, and I just watch her watch.

"You done?" She asks the cat as he licks the empty plate incessantly. "Okay, you're done," she chuckles, picking up the plate and putting it in the sink.

The cat follows the line of her arm, hopping back up on the counter to peer into the sink longingly. She pets him and he purrs, rubbing up against her arm affectionately. "I'll remember to bring you something special next time, promise." She smiles sweetly at him as he nudges his face under her palm, clearly demanding more petting.

I feel myself smile a little as I watch. Man, I don't even like cats. They're so superior and moody, but in ten minutes Bella has paid more attention to this stupid animal than she has to any of us in three months.

"I have to go, little man, before they send the fucking cavalry or something. I'll be back tomorrow."

_Tomorrow?_

I think I'm safe in assuming Bella has been squatting here or something, which makes no sense at all. That's like staying in a shitty motel when you could be at the Four Seasons, expenses paid. From what I can tell, she doesn't even have water or electricity here.

I might be confused about its appeal, but at least now I know where she's been coming, and finally have something I can use.

I turn to leave before she's given the opportunity to catch me lurking, managing to make it all of two steps before freezing instinctively.

There's a vibration in my pocket, followed loudly by the opening strains of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony.

_Really, Dad? You had absolutely _nothing_ better to do than to call me right this fucking second?_

* * *

><p><strong>Kind of a cliffie, I know, but the next one is already written ;)<strong>_  
><em>


	9. Chapter Eight

Huzzah! Nope, this story is not dead, I swear. It just got a little lost on the way, and may or may not have been involved in a hostage situation.

Thanks and squeals to the excited ball of energy that is my beta, **Chrisska**. In case you haven't heard, she's hosting the wonderful **'Pop the Question'** Contest. Voting is now open, so pop on over to fanfiction[dot]net/u/3680273/Pop_the_Question to start reading and choosing your favourites. You can follow **Pop_the_Q **on Twitterto see the winners announced on April 5th.

Thanks also to Miss **OrdinaryVamp** (I love you, brosefus), and **Landdownunder **(plus her sheep) for both pre-reading and always providing such awesome and lulzy feedback.

**Suggested listening:** '60 Feet Tall' by The Dead Weather

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight:<strong>

**'Turning Tables'**

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><p><em><strong>Last chapter…<strong>_

_I turn to leave before she's given the opportunity to catch me lurking, managing to make it all of two steps before freezing instinctively._

_There's a vibration in my pocket, followed loudly by the opening strains of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony._

Really, Dad? You had absolutely _nothing_ better to do than to call me right this fucking second?

* * *

><p>I know I should probably move, but vivid memories of the social worker divulging Bella's supposed 'violent' past to my parents keep me in frozen in place.<p>

I assure myself it's ridiculous to be worried; I mean, there hasn't been the slightest hint of that side of her. It doesn't exist as far as I can tell. The closest thing she's exhibited is throwing a fucking mug at the wall.

_Oh god, hurry! Get the straitjacket! _I roll my eyes.

She's half my size for Christ's sake. As long as I keep my balls covered, I'm good.

Acknowledging this now-seemingly-obvious fact, I take brisk steps across the porch, back around to the side of the house. It's still dark as shit, and I curse under my breath as I attempt to navigate the overgrown path. Failing to sense any movement behind me, I unwisely begin to think maybe Bella didn't hear Dad's announcement of my presence after all.

Either way, I just want to get back home. I can process how to use this dirt on her later.

_Head, meet your ever-faithful companion, sand._

The light streaming from the street lamp thankfully comes into view as I emerge like a blind man from the side of the house. I stride across the lawn toward our discarded bikes, fully planning on taking mine and leaving the god-awful Barbie mobile for Bella to grapple with.

I make it halfway across the lawn when I begin to hear the sound of fast footfall behind me. Before I have the chance to even contemplate turning around, my center of gravity shifts as I jolt forward, finding the side of my face roughly planted into the dirt. A dull pain radiates from the middle of my back as I struggle to breathe.

Placing a forearm against the back of my neck, my attacker leans forward to yell gleefully in my ear, "Surprize!". I wince as Bella pauses a second before adding in a lower, more serious tone, "What the _fuck _are you doing here, Edward?"

She's thoroughly winded me and I can't reply, which only makes her dig what I now figure is her knee more firmly into my back.

"Jesus!" I manage to cough out.

"Why are you following me?" Bella asks sternly whilst putting more pressure on the side of my face. She grabs a fistful of my hair with her other hand and jerks my head back to punctuate her question.

"Fucking, ow!"

"Answer me and I'll let you up."

"You'll _let _me?" I laugh through a mouthful of grass, which probably isn't best idea, but I can't help myself. My assumption is quickly confirmed when she tugs sharply on my hair again. "Okay, okay!" I placate her as I try to discretely stretch my hands flat against the ground for leverage.

"Well?" She prods, impatient.

Pushing up on my spread palms, I manage to shove myself up on all fours and turn to throw her off my back. Bella falls like a ragdoll onto her ass in an ungraceful heap as I step away from her and begin to dust myself off.

I smirk down at her in victory. "Surpri-!"

She cuts off my taunt by clawing at the ground, scrambling to her feet and charging her way toward me, straight in the fucking stomach. Everything gets a little out of focus with the impact as I fall backward, my head hitting the ground as my lungs let out a loud 'ooof'.

We're both breathing heavily now as she frantically straddles my waist and moves to place a hand around my throat, her nails dig in as she pins me to the ground. While I'm sure our position is entirely innocent in her eyes, my traitor body begs to differ as it reacts accordingly to the sight of her bare thighs spread above me.

_Jesus, not now._

I grab her narrow hips with both hands and move to throw her off me easily before she realizes my body's indiscretion. She falls to my left with a resounding thump.

I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation now, turning my head to face Bella who tilts her own face to greet my amusement with only narrowed eyes.

"What? It's fucking funny!" I defend, my chest rising noticeably with each breath.

"I didn't peg you for a masochist, Edward. Do you _want_ me to break your face? 'Cause I'm totally cool with that."

"You're adorable."

"Fuck you."

I laugh again despite myself, spying the grey cat from earlier running towards us in my peripheral. I watch as it climbs across Bella's stomach, moving up her body and placing its paws on her chest to stare directly down into her face comically. She pets it on the head briefly, before sitting up and leaning back on outstretched arms.

"You need to go." She states quietly after a moment, gazing into the distance, refusing to look at me.

"Trust me, I want to, but not before you tell me why you come here. Why you came back to Forks in the first place."

"I don't have to tell you shit. Leave. Now."

"You're right I guess. Best to save the 'good' explanation for Mom and Dad," I threaten lightly as I move to stand again. I attempt to casually wipe the mud covering my hands onto the pockets of my jeans. The cat starts sniffing around my sneakers curiously.

"Fuck off," I mutter, kicking my leg out to shoo it away. I'm careful not to actually harm it, since I doubt that would go down too well with Bella.

"Fine," she sighs dramatically. "How about you don't tell Esme and Carlisle about this, and I won't tell them about the sordid porn collection you have stashed under your mattress?"

I can't help the indignant laughter that erupts from my chest.

_At least her delusions are entertaining._

"We don't have maid service, Bella. You really think Mom doesn't know about that already? Plus, I'm one hundred per cent certain my parent's porn collection is way more 'sordid' than mine will ever be."

Her expression shows only a minute amount of disappointment before she stands to try and face me, her height preventing the task. "Okay then," she says, tilting her her jaw up defiantly to look me in the eyes with an eyebrow raised. "How about you don't tell them about this, andI won't tell them about you trespassing on a crime scene?"

_The fuck…?_

I can barely disguise the shock on my face before she sees it.

"That's what I thought." Bella is smug and I don't blame her; she's got me by the balls on this one. My mind reels as it tries to catch up.

"How in the _fuck _do you know about that?" I blurt, foolishly unguarded.

"I was staking it out. The fucker had my truck after all." Bella shrugs casually as she wipes her own hands off on her dress. "I borrowed one of Esme's cameras for that particular expedition, and it yielded some rather interesting shots." She pauses, "You know trespassing is illegal, right? It's something that really wouldn't be looked upon favourably in say, a college application."

_Son of a fucking bitch!_

I'm speechless. I really don't have a witty rebuttal. The sudden panicky feeling I felt at the Call house kind of makes sense now. I was being watched. By her.

"You have pictures?"

"The fact that you're even asking me that should be your answer, Edward."

"Fine," I agree reluctantly. "So I don't tell them about your crappy little hideaway and that's it?" I'm not so stupid that I don't recognise this deal is unbalanced. She holds my entire future in her hands, whilst I only hold some weird form of nostalgia- for lack of a better word- in mine.

"Not exactly, but this doesn't have to be all bad. Quit looking like I peed on your bonfire."

"What else?" I ask warily.

"Well, as you know my truck is from the fifties. It's a beast and pretty much impossible to move without the keys. I'm not even sure it would start if I had them, regardless they're not in that house anymore."

"And you know that how?"

"I looked," Bella states, scrunching up her nose up like it's obvious.

"Okay, again, what do you want?"

"Jesus, are you really that fucking dense? I think whoever killed the asshole took the keys too. I know you're into all that crime scene shit, so I need you to help me learn about him, who his friends are and stuff so we can work out who might've taken them."

"Really?" I snort. "So your theory is this guy was slaughtered by someone he knew just to take the keys to your beat-up truck? That's retarded. Are you sure it wasn't you?" I laugh, my eyes widening in horror as I actually contemplate that possibility. It kind of makes sense when I think about it.

"No, it wasn't me," she says dryly, rolling her eyes. "Look, I can't spell it out anymore clearly for you. You get my dad's truck back, and I won't rat you out. Simple."

"That's it?" I ask, suspicious of her motives. "Wait, if the Call guy really did steal the truck like you said, then why the hell haven't the cops traced it back your family?"

"Because they forged the papers! It was in the shop down at the Res when he died, and they just lied, saying he'd asked for it to be scrapped for parts before he died."

"Then why the fuck is it still in that garage?" I ask, getting more confused by the second.

"Because it's an antique, man. The longer they keep it the older it gets, and the more money they can make on it at auction."

Bella's logic really doesn't add up. There's clearly more to this story than she is letting on. I stay silent for a long moment, pretending to think on her our potential deal. In reality I'm rationalizing that I if I can keep her pacified with this for long enough, I'll be able to work out what really happened.

"If I help you, you'll destroy the photos? Give me the originals?"

"Of course," Bella assures me. I have to read her lips because her reply is almost completely drowned out by the sound of sirens wailing on a fleet of police cruisers that surge past us.

"Deal." I reply, without another thought, holding my hand out for her.

We shake on it and Bella smiles in victory before she moves past me to stroll across the lawn toward our discarded bikes. She grabs the handle of mine, lifting it to sit upon the saddle, waiting.

"I don't fucking think so!" I shake my head. "You're taking the Barbie mobile, darling."

Bella snorts, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Fine." I sigh. "How about this?"

Bella watches on, slightly confused as I pick up the tiny pink bike. I carry it easily across the lawn over my shoulder and quickly dump it at the side of the house before moving back next to her on the sidewalk.

I grab her by the wrists, noticing the faint white ridges encircling them with my thumbs. My brow furrows as she jerks her arms back quickly, getting off the bike and ducking her head. I don't let my mind linger on it as I instruct her to sit on the handlebars. Surprisingly, she does as is told for once.

We weave and wobble at first, but I manage to find our balance and set off down the road, gathering more speed when I stand elevated over her shoulder on the pedals.

The ride is silent until three quarters of the way home when my phone rings loudly again from my pocket and I have to pull over.

"What?" I answer abruptly as we steady on the sidewalk. Bella peers over her shoulder at me impatiently.

"Edward that is no way to greet your father."

"My humblest apologies, Sire. How may I be of service?" I retort apathetically.

"Enough of your smart mouth, have you located Bella or not?"

"Yeah."

"Well stop messing around and bring her home, your mother is worried sick!"

"I am doin-"

He hangs up before I finish my sentence and I glare at the phone momentarily. It really is a wonder how I managed to form actual emotions with him for a father.

"Are you okay?" Bella asks quietly, still resting her chin on her shoulder as her hands brace the handles where she's perched.

I ignore her, swallowing as I push off.

_Like you fucking care._

* * *

><p>Once we reach home Bella hops off the handlebars without another word. She fleets up the porch stairs into the house and up to her room. I guess I can't blame her; I really just want to be alone myself.<p>

"Edward?" Mom collars me in the lobby. "Is she okay?" She looks back up to the stairs, obviously having heard Bella, but not been quick enough to catch her.

"Peachy," I mutter.

"Okay," is her only response and I struggle to understand why she doesn't press for more details. "As long as she's okay." Mom smiles, seeming to sense my confusion and trying to put it at ease.

"Yeah," I reply, my brow furrowed.

This is entirely too awkward and I acknowledge the expression on her face as one that I haven't seen since the months we spent hunting for Lizzy.

"Er, so, I'm going to bed now," I say, glancing at the watch on my wrist for emphasis. It's barely ten-thirty, so I'm sure she's unnerved by my early retreat.

"Okay, darling," she smiles strangely again, reaching up to briefly touch my cheek with a sad expression. "Good night."

"Night, Mom."

* * *

><p>Once in my room, I close the door and head straight for the shower, shedding my clothes as I go. The chill in my bones washes away nicely under the warm water and I try to reflect on what the fuck happened today. I usually do my best thinking in the shower, but it's been a long-ass day and I can hardly focus on one thing at a time.<p>

Thirty minutes later, with a towel hung loosely around my waist, I pad back into the bedroom and begin to dry myself off. I have some history homework to finish for the morning, but I'm really not in the fucking mood. I also have a new episode of 'Criminal Minds' waiting on the DVR, but I can't even be bothered to watch that.

_Who am I?_

I stare vacantly out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my room for a few minutes, before pulling on some boxers and sitting at my desk. I flip on the useless police scanner while I wait for the laptop to fire up.

Returning my gaze to the window, an idea begins to form in my head and, while I don't have any of that cool, colourful chalk they use on TV, I realize I can still utilize the glass.

When the computer is fully loaded, I connect my camera and set the numerous photos to print on my best quality paper. I find a roll of tape and fiddle with the ends impatiently as I wait.

_God bless laser printers._

I grab the photos and stand before the window, taking a breath, kind of exhilarated by my new strategy.

The first photo that goes up is a great one of the bloodied bed.

_Wrong_.

I take it down. Chronological is best. Starting again, I put up pictures of the garage, the truck- the first ones I took.

Photos of the beloved bloody footprints- the ones that have tormented me- are swiftly followed by those of the equally bloody staircase. Next comes the bedroom pics; the best ones, I smile.

_They really do look legit._

I've already done the requisite research to confirm that the blood spatter on said bedroom photos is medium velocity. This rules out firearms, which I'm certain the police were able to do weeks ago, since they have an actual body to autopsy.

I let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

This would be so much easier if I had their resources. Guns ruled out, I'm absolutely certain the scene depicted before me on the window was a crime of passion. As everyone knows, crimes of passion mean someone they know, just like Bella is assuming. I can't even interview witnesses to find out who might have been a threat.

_Ugh._

An unexpected, quiet knock sounds at my door.

"Come in," I reply half-heartedly.

"Wow," Bella says, taking in my new decor. "So, you're like _really _into this shit, huh?" She teases.

"Something like that," I mutter, turning to face her. Bella obviously had the same idea as me and took a shower when she got home. Her long, damp hair is making wet patches on her the shoulders. "You kind of forced my hand."

"Bullshit. You love this whole Columbo routine."

"It's not a routine," I answer honestly. "I just find it interesting- despite the migraines it's causing, and the fact that you're threatening my entire future if I don't."

"Any leads on my truck yet?" Bella asks, completely disregarding what I just said as she moves to settle on the edge of the bed. She flounces backwards, closing her eyes as I try to divert my gaze from her obviously braless chest.

_Fucking wet patches._

"Well?"

"No. I need more time. You can't expect instantaneous results, woman."

"Fine," Bella sighs, placing a forearm over her eyes dramatically. "But I don't have much time, so I need you to pull your head out of your ass, pronto, kay?"

"At the risk of sounding obtuse, what _exactly _is your rush? My parents, as inexplicable as it is, clearly want to keep you around. They're not going to send you away."

"I know that, but-" Bella's reply is cut short by the police scanner sounding from my desk.

"_Unit seven, requesting Forensics on the ten-sixty-five down at Three Rivers."_

Ignoring Bella, I move to fish out the manual from the desk drawer and look up the code.

_Ten-sixty-five_… _Ten-sixty-five_… I thumb through the pages.

"What is it?" Bella enquires.

"Another missing person."

* * *

><p>Thanks for coming back, or just coming *snort* if you're new to this story.<p>

I'm more nervous than usual, so thank you in advance if you decide to leave your opinion :)

Now go start reading the **PtQ **entries, dammit!


	10. Chapter Nine

Hellur and thanks for coming back! It's been over a month, I know, but this one is doubly-long to compensate :)

Thanks to **Chrisska** for basically collabiing on this and waving her magic wand (not _that_ wand, pervs). Thanks to my always awesome pre-readers **Landdownunder** and **Ordinary Vamp**. Writers, be jealous.

Special thanks to **Twilly** for going ninja on my ass and doing a surprise review of this story over on the **Indie Fic Pimp** http:/bit[dot]ly/IF25ft

Also thanks to those of you who voted for this fic in The Lemonade Stand's poll :)

**Suggested listening: **'Melon' by Home Video

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine:<strong>

** 'Red Alert'**

* * *

><p>Bella and I sit quietly in my room for almost an hour. She's still flaked across the bottom of my bed, legs bent at the knees as she lets them hang limply over the edge. I'd wager she'd fallen asleep if it weren't for the vacant stare she has fixed on the ceiling. I take a glance up myself, attempting to discern what has her so intrigued.<p>

_White paint. Fascinating._

I can only assume the reason behind the surprisingly non-awkward silence is the way we're lost in our own thoughts. I'm speculating on the identity of the missing person reported on the scanner, considering investigation tactics; in the meantime, it's anybody's guess what's floating through her head. Somehow I doubt her thoughts are the same thing as mine, but I'm also confident they're nothing along the lines of makeup, boys, or shopping.

I sigh, itching for a cigarette. After a few minutes, I give in and stand from my seat at the desk to walk toward the closet. I pull on an old sweater, jeans, and some sneakers, wondering idly why she never acknowledged my lack of clothes earlier. We're not exactly in that comfy, 'friends mean underwear is no big deal' zone, so I have to conclude that she's either severely unimpressed, or simply doesn't care.

The thought does wonders for my ego.

I grab a fresh pack of smokes and my lighter from the nightstand and move to the balcony doors. Being the genius that I am, I went ahead and taped the crime scene photos straight across the fucking opening earlier, meaning I have to reluctantly take down some of my handiwork to get outside.

When I'm done I take a small step back to open the door, legitimately almost crapping myself as my back collides abruptly with Bella's front.

_Shitgoblinfuckballs!_

I physically cringe as I feel her soft toes crunch under my heels. The high-pitched squeal she lets out causes me to flinch as she starts shoving roughly at the back of my shoulders with her fists.

"You _fat_ fuck!" Bella exclaims loudly as I stumble forward. I spin around to see her face contorted in pain, watching as she quickly squats down to rub to tops of her feet with one hand and her forehead with the other.

"Why the hell were you lurking behind me like that?" I yell when she glares up at me accusingly. "It's your own fucking fault, I don't know _where_ you thought you were going."

"The same place as you, asshole!" she snaps, standing up and wincing slightly as she curls her toes into the carpet.

I can't help but snort as I look her up and down with a dubious expression. I make sure to linger on the flimsy pyjama shorts she's wearing for emphasis. "I wasn't going for cocktails on the beach, Bella. Are you serious?"

"As an axe in your face," she assures dryly, narrowing her eyes again before brushing past me to unlock the door herself. I chuckle quietly as I turn to follow her out into the chill.

_Bitches really do be crazy. _

After shaking my head, I stare down at her pale, bare feet on the frosty ground, slightly in awe of her apparent high tolerance of pain.

"How does that not hurt?" I ask incredulously as I linger just inside the door. Bella gives a casual shrug, but the goosebumps that have quickly lined her flesh betray her nonchalance. I get the feeling my making a fuss over it has pushed her to try and prove a point she otherwise wouldn't have.

"Here," I mutter, pulling my sweater over my head to hold it out to her. Bella chooses to stare at the offering in my hand like it's a platter of dead puppies.

"Just take it," I huff, getting pissed that now we're _both_ fucking freezing for no reason. Finally she steps forward, and once she's taken the fabric from my outstretched hand I turn and stalk back into the warmth of the room. I genuinely consider locking her outside… just for a moment.

When I return in a new hoodie a few seconds later, I pass her the sweats and sneakers I quickly snatched from my closet and hand them to over her with a pointed look.

"Great." I smile when she accepts without further comment and begins to slip them on. "Now that you're done being a stubborn shit, can I please have my smoke?"

Bella surprisingly doesn't give me any more snark as she rolls the top of my sweats over a few times and places her feet in the oversized shoes. Instead, she looks vaguely confused.

At least my conscience is clear that no appendages will be lost tonight.

Finally free to light my smoke, I take a long drag, feeling slightly more relaxed as I lean my forearms against the balcony. I can still spy Bella in my peripheral vision as she pulls a band from her wrist, tying her still-damp hair into a loose knot on the top of her head. When she's done, she moves to my side, resting back casually on her elbows as she leans against the glass next to me.

"What?" I ask when she proceeds to stare at me expectantly. "This isn't 'Edward's House of Free Shit', get your own."

"It's a cigarette, dude, not your firstborn. Don't be such a tight ass."

I let out another annoyed huff, but pull the pack from my pocket and pass her one purely to shut her up. Bella takes the cigarette from my hand, rolling her eyes petulantly when I don't automatically offer her my lighter too.

"You're really starting to grate on my nerves," I grouse as I fish the lighter from my pocket and place it in her waiting palm.

"Well then," she pauses to light her own smoke, "it's good thing you have that stick up your ass to help distract from the pain, huh?"

I decide not to dignify her goading with a response, and instead turn my head back to face the surrounding woods. After she passes the lighter back, I fidget with it in my free hand that hangs over the edge, opening and closing the flame as I turn it in my fingers.

"I'm sorry," Bella says softly after a few minutes, breaking the silence and shocking the hell out of me. I actually drop the lighter.

"Excuse me?"

_Please tell me I didn't mishear that._

"This is never gonna work if we're always like this," she blurts, moving her hand in a gesture between us as she turns to face me properly. "Look, I know I'm intruding on your life or whatever, but I honestly don't want to be here anymore than you want me to."

"Then why are you?" I ask earnestly, feeling so weary of this game.

"Well, for one your mom puts these super delicious little chocolates on my pillow and…" she trails off awkwardly at my un-amused expression. "Fine. I have… sort of a debt to pay. I can't explain, but I _promise_ to you, once you help me work this shit out I'll be gone- for good. You'll never see me again, I swear."

Her melodramatic answer leaves me with only more questions as usual. Since it's clear she won't give me anything more than cryptic non-answers at this point, I try my luck with something more direct. "What happened earlier? In the kitchen with Mom?"

Bella's open posture immediately turns defensive as she frowns and shifts away to stare at the ground. She wraps an arm across her middle, making it clear her outburst of honesty is over.

"Okay, how about the house, then? And the cat?"

"He's a stray," she replies more easily, ignoring my other questions. "I fed him once and he decided we were committed enough to move in together."

I know she's just joking. I _hope _she's just joking.

"So you stay there? I mean, actually sleep there?"

"Sometimes," she shrugs. "I really don't see how these questions are relevant. We should be discussing your pseudo-investigation, not me."

Flicking my cigarette over the edge, I stand up straight and run a hand over my face in frustration. I resolve right then and there that if she's not going to give me answers I'll have to go to the old Swan house and get them myself.

"What do you know so far?" She pushes when I stay silent.

"Not a fucking lot, really. Come inside and I'll show you."

She follows and even helps by passing the photos I had to take down earlier.

"Okay," I begin once everything is back in place. "See here?" I point to the various images of windows and doors. "These are all the ways into the house. None of them show signs of forced entry, so either something was unlocked, or the killer was invited in. I'm going with the latter."

Bella nods in understanding, so I continue. "The bedroom here is where shit got real for the guy. Judging from the pattern and sheer amount of blood on the walls, a major artery was severed. My money is on the carotid in his neck, since it's so high up and that shit squirts like crazy with the pressure."

I risk a glance at her, expecting a disgusted expression, but she just nods again and peers closer.

"It's obvious what happened next." I point to the photos of the stairs and front door. "He was wrapped in the top sheet and dragged down the stairs into the woods. Every so often the blood trail gets wider and darker, which means they had to keep stopping for some reason." I show her the various points. "We're looking for someone with an injury or disability, or maybe just embarrassing upper-body strength. Either way, it's definitely just one guy working alone."

"Are there any fingerprints?" Bella asks.

"Not that I saw, but these," I point to the bloody footprints in the garage. "Were a fucking headache. See how the toes are missing? That means he was wearing the wrong shoe size."

"So?"

"So, I'd wager he planned it. I remembered this one episode of CSI while you were prancing around Narnia in your head. A pedo wore shoes two sizes too big so the cops would rule him out as a suspect."

"Oh," Bella whispers, and it hits me that talking about sick fucks like that so casually is probably insensitive.

The police never gave explicit details, for obvious reasons, but the press still speculated Bella was a victim of sexual abuse while she was missing. I never really formed an opinion. I mean, I was only twelve and entirely focused on finding my sister at the time, but looking at how cagey Bella is now I wouldn't be surprised.

My staring begins to make her uncomfortable and she clears her throat.

I quickly snap out of it and start going over my other findings with her. Centering on the overkill aspect of the scene, I elaborate on why I think she's right that Call knew the killer, but avoid discussing her truck-stealing theory. It's bullshit and I think she knows it, but in the end both approaches should lead to the killer, and I can do without the argument.

As Bella listens and asks the occasional question, I can't lie that I'm not enjoying it. Her ulterior motive notwithstanding, it feels good to share an interest with someone other than the middle-aged Mr. Banner.

Bella eventually excuses herself around midnight, and for once I manage to get almost eight hours sleep.

* * *

><p>The morning starts off promising enough when I oversleep. Accepting that I was already late, I spent too long jerking off in the shower. Now I can't find my fucking keys and Mom is getting pissed, periodically yelling up the stairs for me to move my ass. Not in those words.<p>

I give up on the keys and make my way downstairs, pausing just outside the kitchen door. The TV is blaring loudly from the corner as I watch Mom place a glass of water down in front of Bella along with a small plastic cup. Bella tips the cup back into her mouth, swiftly following it with the water before sticking out her tongue for inspection.

What she does next solves a tiny piece of the puzzle. As soon as Mom turns away, satisfied, Bella spits the pills out into her hand and quickly stuffs them into the back pocket of her jeans.

I clear my throat as I enter the kitchen, trying to discretely let her know that I've busted her, but her eyes are now fixed on the TV mounted on the wall.

"… _around seven PM last night. Police urge any witnesses to come forward and aid the investigation."_

"Morning, sleepyhead." Mom smiles.

"Morning, Mom," I reply, moving my attention to the screen. There's a picture of a small girl with glasses and a sweet smile. Underneath is the word 'Missing' in bold type, along with the name 'Angela Webber'.

_Oh! Oh! _I yell in my head like a child.

I look back to Bella for her input, but her attention isn't on the TV anymore, it's on me. She seems to be trying to communicate something with her eyes.

"What?" I blurt.

"Nothing," she mutters. "Are we going now? We're gonna be late."

"I can't find my-"

Bella produces my keys from her pocket and pushes them discreetly across the counter. Her expression isn't nearly apologetic enough, and we enter a weird sort of stare-off before Mom turns back to us, none the wiser.

"I need you two to pick up some things from the store after school," Mom says, handing me a glass of juice and a folded note, which I stuff into my pocket.

"Because Dad doesn't already have enough food in the basement for a zombie apocalypse?"

"Dairy has an expiration date, dear. Do they teach you nothing at that school?" she teases.

"I guess not. C'mon, chuckles," I mutter to Bella as I move to the garage entrance and jog down the stairs. She follows silently, and when we get in the car we both reach for the radio dial at the same time. I slap her hand away quickly, only half-joking with the glare I shoot her. Flipping through the stations, we wait for the garage door to open and set off when I find what I'm looking for. It must be the same thing she was, because she doesn't argue.

"…_department has issued an Amber Alert for Angela Webber; A nine-year-old white female with light brown hair and brown eyes. Height: Four feet two inches, weight: sixty-one pounds. The child was abducted from Three Rivers Resort in Forks, Washington, last night at approximately seven PM…"_

The alert instantly triggers thoughts of Lizzy and the time around her disappearance. I think about how this girl's family must be feeling, remembering my mother's sallow face and her inability to get out of bed for months. I know I'm not the best empathiser in the world, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

When I come out of my daze I notice Bella seems on edge, biting her nails as we both listen to the reporter describe what the girl was wearing and who to contact with info.

"You know something about this?" I ask abruptly.

"What? No. How would I?"

"I have no idea, but you're all antsy like you were yesterday. Something's up."

"It's my meds." She shrugs.

"Wha- are you…?" I take a breath. "Could you repeat that, please? I couldn't hear you over the radio, oh, and all the _bullshit."_

She gives me one of her patented roll of the eyes. "You were with me last night, remember?"

"How could I forget," I mutter as we pull into the parking lot.

"Exactly." She grins sardonically before jumping out of the car. "Later, _Eddie._"

* * *

><p>The two steps back I seem to have taken with Bella don't help with the uncomfortable knot left in my stomach by news of the missing girl. All morning I stare blindly at textbooks and out of windows, remembering shit I really don't want to. Luckily only one teacher calls on me, but I still look like an ass when I have to ask for the question to be repeated.<p>

I make a conscious effort to come back to reality- well, today's reality. I know from the various hidden pamphlets in the house, along with her browser history, that Mom already thinks one of us is on drugs. The last thing I need is for her to get the kind of phone call that would have me peeing in a cup.

Not that I have anything to hide.

It's finally the lunch period, and I decide to ditch the cafeteria for the quiet of my car. On the way I spot my favorite antagonist in the world, also walking across the lot, pulling on her hood as it starts to rain. She's heading towards the exit and I see it as a welcome opportunity for distraction.

"Hey!" I yell, jogging up behind her. "Wait up!"

Bella's step doesn't falter.

_Shock, shock, horror._

When I catch up, I move in front of her, causing her to pause mid-stride and appear weirdly startled.

"Selective hearing? You must teach me your ways, oh great one. You got it nailed," I tease, walking backwards with my hands in my pockets. I quickly drop the sarcastic tone when she lifts her eyes to meet mine and I see how red they are. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" I ask sincerely.

"Nothing," Bella replies, making the crappiest attempt at a smile I've ever seen in my life. "Okay, that was lame," she admits with a sigh. "I'm just PMS-ing, which I'm sure you could've lived without knowing."

Experience tells me she's probably lying, but I nod anyway. "True, but it's good to see you keeping the female stereotype alive. Do I need to invest in a cup for when the rage kicks in?" I joke, hoping to elicit a real smile.

"You don't own one already? You're such a dork."

_And she's back._

"Hey now! Just 'cause I'm not an oversized beef bus like Em, doesn't mean I'm not athletic," I retort, feigning indignation.

"Stalking and lurking don't count as sports, Edward."

I'm about to disagree, but I'm interrupted by the sidewalk that I trip backwards over as we reach the corner. "So where are we going?" I ask lightly.

"We?"

I pull my car keys out of my pocket and hold them in the air as both an answer and bait.

"Fine, but only because it's raining and your demented sister will cut me if I ruin these shoes."

* * *

><p>"Wait here, I'll be right back."<p>

I watch from the driver's seat as Bella hops out of the car and dashes through the rain across the overgrown lawn of the Swan house. I give her a couple minutes head start before naturally getting out and jogging around the back of the house after her. I very nearly eat shit on both the wet porch and the discarded Barbie mobile on my way, making it three times in less than an hour.

"Nearly a full four minutes. Wow, I'm impressed." Bella calls from the living room as I climb through the window.

The kitchen looks a little different with some light from outside, but it's still dark enough that Bella has lit a few of the lanterns. I follow the trail into the living room where she's stood on tiptoe rummaging through a box.

"Well you're super delightful and I just can't stay away," I reply absently, using her distraction to look around the room. There's really not much to see, it's mostly filled with stacked boxes and the odd piece of furniture. The couch catches my eye though, because it's made up like a bed, and I wonder why she doesn't sleep in her own room upstairs. Placed in front of the couch is a wooden coffee table; every inch covered in files and newspapers.

"What's all this?" I ask moving to pick up one of the papers. I notice an article about a missing child circled in red, before Bella comes up behind me and snatches it from my hand.

"I swear you're worse than the fucking cat with your nose in everything."

I ignore Bella, far too focused on the giant fucking penny that just dropped in my head.

_They're all connected._

Bella eyes me speculatively as I take a seat on the edge of her couch.

In a town this small, the chances of three abductions in five years not being related is ridiculously unlikely. I feel like I should have my IQ tested for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Are you okay there? You look like you're having a seizure."

I stay silent, trying to decide if I should share my thoughts with Bella or not. She obviously knows things that I need to, and we're supposed to be on the same team now, but I don't trust her fully.

_Holy shit! Dad._

He wasn't just grasping at straws with his insistence that Bella and Lizzy's cases were connected. It makes sense now why he pushed Mom so much to take her in. I wonder how much he's found out from Bella already, and why his ass isn't doing anything about it.

"Edward, you're starting to freak me out," Bella says, moving some papers aside on the coffee table to sit across from me.

"I'm fine, sorry. I was just thinking about my sister. That missing girl is dragging up shitty memories, y'know?" I say, testing the waters, trying to gauge her reaction.

She narrows her eyes at me slightly before answering, "Yeah… your parents told me about it. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

The conversation ends abruptly as Bella stands and grabs one of the lanterns from the floor, disappearing through the maze of boxes and up the stairs. I can't decide whether she's avoiding the subject, knowing I would see through her lies, or just being really insensitive.

"So I was thinking we should go to the bonfire tonight," Bella announces when she returns to the living room a few minutes later, a pack of post-its in her hand. "It's down at the res, so we could do some digging around about Call."

"That sounds like a super fun idea, but I'm grounded, remember?" I reply dryly.

"Um, I'm pretty sure they won't notice you're gone. They have some _alone_ _time_ scheduled for tonight."

"Huh? I need to check the fridge memos more often, because I missed that one."

"Look at the shopping list she gave you, dude. Twenty bucks says it has face paint and balloons on it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I pull the crumpled note from my pocket and scan down the list, my eyes going wide.

_Well shit, she's right._

"I overheard them talking this morning. I had to walk away after hearing the words 'roleplay' and 'clown suit' in the same sentence."

"There's bananas and disinfectant on this list." I say in awe, struggling not to throw up. "Oh God, pass the brain bleach."

"Like I'd have anything left after that. You're parents are kinda fucked up, man."

I just nod and think about how much therapy I'm gonna need.

* * *

><p>I couldn't look my mother in the eye when I handed her the grocery bags earlier. Sitting here waiting for them to make good on their plans isn't helping the queasy feeling in my stomach.<p>

"Was that it?" Bella asks from the foot of the bed when we hear the sound of their bedroom door closing.

I nod my head in answer. She follows as we quietly make our way downstairs to the garage, covering her ears for safe measure when we pass the second floor. I'm about to start to car when I decide to go back into the kitchen and steal a six-pack from the fridge. They'll just assume it was Alice, and Lord knows I need it.

The party is already pretty loud when we park and make our way down to the beach. There are a few decent sized fires going, a couple of kegs, and the obligatory shitty dry-humping music.

I offer Bella one of my beers as we walk, but she declines, saying she doesn't drink and she's not here to get wasted and felt up. I smile at that.

"Eddie!" I hear Jessica call gleefully when we reach the first fire. "What're you doing here? I thought Daddy C grounded you, for like, ever?" Her slightly slurred words give me hope that my sister will also be tipsy, and more importantly, not rat me out.

"He _did._" Alice says sternly as she walks up next to Jess, stone cold sober.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath as I watch her rudely eye Bella up and down. "We just want to hang for a few hours, Al. Give me a break and I'll do your chores for a week." While I'm talking, Bella moseys off, and I'm grateful Alice doesn't see Jasper's keen gaze following her.

"You're friends with like three people here, Edward," Alice argues. She has a point. "Fine. Make it three weeks, keep _her _away, and you have a deal."

"Done and done," I say, shaking her hand as I chug my beer.

* * *

><p><em>Jesus fuck, I'm bored.<em>

It's only been two hours, but it feels like ten, and I'm left wondering why I agreed to do extra chores for _this_.

I lost Bella about half-an-hour ago, after my fourth beer and an argument about who was driving home. I'm not that much of a douche that I'd drink and drive, but I'm not about to let her take the wheel either. Sober or not.

"Looks like Mike finally worked his charm on Bambi," Emmett says as he steps over the log and takes a seat next to me. The natural bass of his voice makes me jump.

"Bambi?"

"Y'know… scrawny legs? Scared doe eyes?" He says, pointing vaguely behind us to the parking lot with his beer. "Left- or stumbled- with him twenty minutes ago?"

My head turns a little too quickly and it amuses Emmett. "Don't worry, bro. He's just giving her a _'ride'_." He laughs, making finger quotes on the last word.

"She was wasted?" I ask seriously, dismissing the anger I feel as worry for her safety.

"You know she had to be to hook up with Captain Horndog."

"Agreed," I mutter, wondering when she changed her mind and how the hell she got drunk so fast.

"Speaking of the Captain…" Em says as he stands, looking over my head with a nod. I turn to see a disappointed looking Mike strolling back down to the beach. Alone.

I feel both relieved and confused, jogging up to meet him halfway. He looks worried when he sees me approaching. "Where's Bella?"

"Woah, woah, she's fine. I just gave her a ride." He steps back, his hands raised.

"You weren't gone long enough to take her home. Where is she?"

"Relax, man. She asked me to drop her at some friend's house."

"What friend? She doesn't _have _any friends," I snap. Talking to him is like pulling teeth. "You know what, just take me there," I demand, walking around him.

"No can do. I have a keg with my name on it."

After giving him my best intimidating glare and a promise not to tell Jess about his pseudo-infidelity, he finally agrees.

Ten minutes of awkward silence later we're parked on a deserted road in the middle of fucking nowhere, and I'm pissed.

"This is definitely it!" He insists.

"You dropped her at a 'friend's house'… on a street with no fucking houses?"

"Hey, it's not _my _fault! She said it wa-"

"You left a wasted girl at the side of the road!" I cut him off. "Fucking idiot!"

I get out of the car before I get the urge to hit him, and he wastes no time restarting the engine. As he drives away I turn around in place. There's nothing but trees on either side of the road for as far as I can see.

_Awesome._

As I walk, I realize the nice buzz I was working on earlier is well and truly gone, and I contemplate going back to the beach to just drive home. I quickly discard that idea when I spot a turning up ahead and pick up my pace.

Just as I'm about to walk down what appears to be a residential drive, I hear the sound of a door slamming loudly, followed by fast footfall. I break out into a sprint, but it's short-lived as halt abruptly in front of a small green house.

The nausea induced by my parents earlier is nothing compared to what I feel when look up at the porch.

Blood. Huge drops of fresh blood leading in a trail down the stairs.

_Bella._

My stomach lurches as I spin around frantically. The blood is impossible to follow as it disappears into the grass, and I can no longer hear footsteps.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

I feel like I'm gonna vomit as imagined scenes of Bella being attacked flash through my mind.

_Fuck!_

Realizing they can't have gone far, I make a snap decision and run around the side of the house into the back yard.

Time stops.

Or slows.

I'm not sure which, but everything gets hazy around the edges when I see Bella pinned underneath a man twice her size in the dirt.

Before I can process what's happening, the guy yelps in pain and Bella is up on her feet, screaming so fucking loud it hurts.

My heart drops into my stomach when she kicks him onto his back and I see the blade of a knife glint in the moonlight. It's like someone simultaneously hit the 'mute' and 'slow-motion' buttons in my head as I watch Bella jolt forward and slam the blade straight into his throat.

I can't breathe.

My basic motor functions have stopped working, and all I can do is watch on in a state of shock as she brings the knife down over and over again, dealing lethal blows to his chest.

"Fucking look at me!" Bella screams, tilting his face roughly by the jaw when it falls to the side.

He's dead. He's fucking dead and my legs feel weak as I struggle to comprehend the situation. Spots start to appear in my vision and I double over, vomiting all over my shoes.

When I try to stand up straight again my vision goes completely black. I pass out before I can even feel my body hit the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>*dust cloud*<strong>


	11. Chapter Ten

Surprise, motherfuckers! (I love you forever if you read that in Doakes' voice).

Promise I haven't flounced on this thing. It's actually more stuck in my brain than ever, so for those that were wondering if I'd abandoned it, let me respond with a loud, resounding "HELL NO, BRO!".

Please give warm, smushy hugs to** Chrisska**, **Ordinary Vamp**, **Landdownunder** and **Besotted** for beta'ing and pre-reading this mess. Those guys deserve some kind of fic medal. All donations for their therapy are appreciated ;D

**Suggested listening: **'Bela Lugosi's Dead' by Bauhaus

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten:<strong>

** 'The Cullen Show'**

* * *

><p>I'm on hidden camera or in some kind of 'Truman Show' situation.<p>

That's the only explanation my muddled brain can come up with as I regain consciousness and blink up at the night sky.

My breathing is still heavy, and the stench of my own vomit permeates the air. This whole scenario is beyond surreal, and I'm paralyzed by my own fear, not daring to look up and confirm what I just saw.

_She really is fucking nuts._

_Self-defence? You didn't see the whole thing, man._

_He attacked her._

_She attacked him._

_Just shut the fuck up and play dead!_

As I lay there like a lamb ready for slaughter, I naturally begin to wonder what the hell happened to my 'fight or flight' instinct. My heart is really the only thing moving right now, and it begins to race faster as I think about why I should be doing the latter. The thought finally gives my body the boost of adrenaline it needs to move, but as I lift my head and slowly draw up my legs to stand, I realize that I'm now alone - well, not really, but it's just me and a bloodied corpse on the ground. Not exactly 'company'.

_Jesus, how long was I out? Where the fuck did she go?_

I'm obviously wary as I stand on unsteady feet, spinning around in place to try and find her, and more importantly, the giant knife she was just wielding.

I see the knife when I turn back to the body. It's standing gruesomely upright, directly in the middle of his chest. I'll readily admit it's not the prettiest of sights, but at least it's not in her hands anymore. Or in me. _That,_ I'm thankful for.

I rub a hand over my face, feeling anxious and unsure of what my next move should be. If my 'Truman Show' theory were actually legit, then no doubt the audience would be yelling at the screen right now for me to call the cops and run like the wind. That's what any sane person would do, right? I've yelled that exact thing at movies and TV shows countless times myself. The only problem is I puked all over the crime scene, and Bella no doubt left evidence leading back to us all over the fucking body.

I begin to pull at my hair, a habit I picked up from my absent father, no less.

_Okay, _I try to reason, taking steps back as I release the tangled strands. Bella is either in the house, or in the woods. I turn and narrow my eyes at the building like it holds the source of all my problems. Which, in truth, it probably does.

If she's in there, then following after her is probably not my best option. Following her here in the first place is the worst idea I've had since that time I tried to jerk off on the trampoline, and I'm not entirely sure which scene will end up messier.

Taking a deep breath, I curse my morbid curiosity. For some fucked up reason, I really, really want to investigate the house. I actually take a couple of steps toward it before common sense kicks in and I check myself.

_Come on, man! Are you really that fucking stupid?_

I'm completely unarmed, and I don't even have gloves. Maybe if she's wasted like Em and Mike said she was, then I'd have an advantage, but a quick glance back at the dead giant on the ground tells me I'm kidding myself.

A loud metal-on-metal sound comes from the direction of the house a second later, interrupting the internal argument I'm trying to have.

With a fleeting glance at the house, I decide the woods are my best bet and bolt straight into the darkness like the pussy I am. My arms may have flailed a little, but if anyone asks me later I'll deny the shit out of it.

_Fuck, I hope they leave that out of the dramatic reconstruction when this is on the Crime Network._

Taking cover behind the trees, I watch as bright car headlights move across the grass and mud of the backyard at an alarming rate. I'd think Alice was driving if I didn't know any better.

As the old, unfamiliar, sedan slams to a halt and the driver jolts forward, I recognize Bella behind the wheel. I really can't bring myself to be surprised. At this point, I'm prepared for Bill _freaking _Murray to fly down from the sky on the back of a pink unicorn.

Bella swings the door open and hops out of the car, taking long, quick strides to the place where I passed out. I'm still not sure about her sobriety, but she seems pretty coherent as she yells "Fuck!" loudly to the sky. She's clearly surprised and frustrated by my disappearance as she runs both of her hands through her long hair. "I was gone for _two _fucking seconds, Cullen!"

_Maybe I should've moved the body, too? Just to fuck with her. _

I stifle a chuckle at the thought.

Taking quiet steps back, my anxiety returns as I watch her slowly scan the surrounding area, obviously looking for me. Did she really expect I'd stick around for this knife party? Technically I did, but I didn't think she knew me well enough to anticipate that.

Bella appears to give up, staring at the ground weirdly for a few seconds before shoving something shiny in the back pocket of her jeans. In a rush, she turns and takes the remaining steps toward the body in the grass. Her back is to me as she leans down to grasp the knife handle. I can't see all the gory details, but I still cringe when it takes a couple of forceful tugs to finally pull the blade free from his chest.

It's gross, but I'm strangely fascinated as she stands and casually wipes the bloody knife on the side of her jeans, reminding me of Mom preparing dinner or something.

_Dear, God, please tell me she's not gonna eat him too, _I nervously joke to myself.

The ease with which she handles the body and the lack of remorse she's showing is unsettling. Bella seems more disturbed and pre-occupied by my disappearance, than by the fact that she just fucking killed somebody. If it were self-defence, then surely she'd be a nervous wreck by now? She would have called the cops and tried to explain?

_Just like you did?_

Okay, maybe not, but she shouldn't be this… calm.

Next, she rifles through his pockets, pulling what I think is his wallet, a pack of smokes, and a lighter from his jeans. She pockets his wallet, and I watch as she lights a cigarette, pushing aside the thought that I could really use one myself right about now.

Bella startles me when she turns abruptly to discard the knife, stabbing it into the ground to grab the guy's feet. She turns him ninety degrees, and I watch as she struggles to drag what must be at least two hundred pounds of man across the dirt. She has to stop twice, and I'm instantly reminded of the Call murder; of the forensic evidence that indicated a man's body was dragged from one point to the next, exactly like she's doing right now.

_She killed him__,__ too, fuckwad._

My thoughts are all over the place, and every thing seems to be unraveling like some kind of weird movie montage in my head. One major thing I _am_ surprised at though, is the strange sense of deception, and kind of… betrayal? I'm feeling. Bella killed Call, and that means she actually stood there in my room last night and listened to me try to explain the evidence surrounding her own freaking murder.

Two ominous thuds sound loudly, breaking my train of thought as Bella drops the guy's feet to the ground. She moves to kick him sharply in the ribs as she mutters something I can't hear and spits on his body, delivering another swift kick.

It's completely illogical, but instantly I want to run and scream at her for being so fucking stupid. She basically just left a signed confession on the body. Her dad was a cop for Christ's sake! Surely she knows better?

Obviously, Bella doesn't hear my mental warning and begins to drag the body the rest of the way to her car, popping the trunk of the sedan and taking a further ten minutes to actually get him inside.

I'm seriously about to intervene, but then Bella pulls a can of gasoline from the trunk. At first I think she's just moving it to make space for the legs, which are stuck awkwardly upright in the air, but then she shakes the can, testing the volume. She eyes it for a moment, before walking around the car to the spot where I puked and proceeding to pour a good third of the can on top of it.

Now I'm definitely confused. She leaves her DNA evidence everywhere, but takes the time to eliminate any evidence suggesting I was there too? And why the hell doesn't she just burn the body while she's at it?

As she squats down and lights the gas with her stolen lighter, I can almost see the moment the next idea hits her brain. Her gaze moves to the house, and without a second thought she marches over to it, gas in hand.

* * *

><p>Bella drove away- dead, leaky guy in tow- twenty minutes ago.<p>

I still haven't moved.

Well, I had like four smokes, but I still haven't physically moved from my spot in the woods. The house is fully ablaze now, and I can hear fire sirens wailing in the distance. They're telling me to move.

I'd decided to cut myself some slack, needing the time to absorb everything, but now I really should go. With a final glance at the burning building, I turn and leave, taking the evidence of my presence with me.

* * *

><p>It's four in the morning by the time I reach my car in the beach parking lot and begin the drive home. I don't even know what I think anymore. I'm exhausted, mentally and physically, but the fact that we have a murderer living under our roof means I can't afford to sleep.<p>

Without knowing Bella's motive, I can't know if she's a threat to my family, and I'm definitely not willing to take that chance.

I open the front door cautiously and peer around the edge, feeling like a cartoon character with my overdramatic gestures. The house is still, everyone probably- hopefully- still sleeping, like they should be.

A nagging fear lingers in my head though, pushing me to search the other rooms in the house.

Starting in the kitchen, I pull the largest knife I see from the block on the counter, grimacing at the slicing sound it makes.

_Am I really willing to use it, if it comes to that?_

I don't think I could kill anybody, let alone a girl, but I push my doubts aside, warranted or not, and make my way to the living room. When I flip on the lights everything seems to be in place. There are two empty wine glasses and an open DVD case on the floor, remnants of Mom and Dad's earlier activity.

The garage, office, Alice, Emmett's, and Mom and Dad's rooms are all thankfully clear of sociopaths. Well, I didn't actually dare look in my parent's room, for fear of further mental scarring, but the sound of my Dad's snoring in time with Mom's soft breathing was the best thing I've ever heard.

A couple of quick calls leave me satisfied that Alice is safe at Jessica's – cough – Jasper's, and Em is on a impromptu, hormone-fuelled visit to see Rosalie at UW for the weekend.

Making my way up to the third and final floor, the sight of my bed laying in wait is almost too much of a temptation. I stare, and maybe drool at it for a few seconds, before shaking my head to wake myself up and check the bathroom.

It's clear, and the only room left to check now is Bella's.

I don't know why, but I knock on the door, like I'm expecting her to say 'Come in' or something. There's no response, which I think is a good thing, so I push it slowly open with the toe of my shoe. My shoe that still smells like vomit, by the way.

_Maybe I should jump all over her bed with my puke-shoes?_

That would be fun, but ultimately pointless since she doesn't even sleep in it.

The room is dark and eerily still, just like the others. When I switch on the main light I see the bed is pristinely made, with everything looking like it did before she arrived. There's still no girly shit, just like I noted the last time, but the drawers are now filled with stuff Mom has bought her over the months.

As I'm rummaging through the drawers and closet, I realize it's stupid of me to be disappointed at not finding a notebook or something with her evil master plan fully detailed. I expected to find at least _something_ out of the ordinary, though.

That 'something' comes when I walk into her bathroom. Everything is still perfect, just like the room, except for the fact that there's a mountain of pillows in the bathtub.

_Bingo!_

It's no shine to the devil, or pile of animal corpses, but sleeping in the tub can be perceived as psychotic, right?

Probably not, but it's still something I can happily deposit in the bank of 'Weirdo Shit Bella Does'.

I shift the pillows around haphazardly, just to annoy her if she does return, before kicking my sneakers off and making my way back to the front entrance, knife still in hand. I take a seat at the foot of the stairs, leaning my back with my head against the wall and legs stretched out on the step.

I begin to wait.

And wait.

* * *

><p><em>Slurping.<em>

I reluctantly open my eyes to see the outline of Bella casually slurping on a juice box as she turns and closes the main door. Memories of last night naturally flood my brain, and I struggle to work out if I'm dreaming or not.

"Bella?" I ask, squinting as if talking to a ghost. When my vision clears I see that she really does look half-dead. Dark circles mar the skin under her eyes, and if possible she's even paler than usual. The blood and dirt stained clothes totally help with the whole 'back from the dead' vibe she's giving off too.

"You were here the whole time?" she asks, confounded. "I looked for you."

"Not very hard," I grumble as I sit up from my slouching position against the wall. I seriously think I hear my spine creak as I move, flinching when I feel the point of the forgotten kitchen knife dig into my thigh through my jeans.

Bella's eyes dart straight to it, widening briefly. "So is this a new fetish, or were you planning to stab me with that thing?" she asks with an air of irritation.

"You're cracking jokes?" I ask, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand. "The cops could be surrounding this place with M16's for all you know."

"But they're not, are they?" Bella says, scrunching her nose. "If they were you wouldn't be sitting there clutching that thing like a scared little girl."

"Overconfidence. That's another tick in the sociopath box," I mumble to myself, shifting the attention of my hand to my aching ribs.

"I'm not a sociopath, asshole, but I _am _really fucking tired." Her dark eyes feel like they're burning a hole straight through my head. "We really need to talk," she adds seriously.

"We do?" I ask, kinda bemused. We completely need to of course; I just didn't expect her to agree with me on that.

"Yeah, but first, I need sleep. So much sleep," she says, tossing her juice box in the trashcan by the door.

"Are you joking?"

She regards me apathetically for a moment, before moving to step over me on the stairs.

"Ugh, no," I insist as I grab and pull her back by an ankle.

"Fuck, Edward!" Bella screeches as her fingers claw at the steps I drag her down. She ends up half-kneeling on two of them, before swivelling around to sit on the step above me.

I'd feel bad. Except I really don't.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she says with a glare.

"Oh, I don't know, I just saw you fucking _stab _someone to death. Not to mention your crossing arson off your bucket list."

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Please explain," I say, arching an eyebrow.

"I already said I will, man. I just need a couple of hours, please?" Bella pleads as she lets out a deep sigh, visibly tensing her jaw as she closes her eyes. "I can explain, with proof to back it up, I promise. But right now I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

"You could not be vaguer if you tried."

"Mmm-hmm," Bella hums dismissively as she stands to walk up the stairs again. This time she's out of reach, and so I stand with her, wincing as I follow her up to our floor.

"You can't stalk me forever, you know," Bella calls sleepily over her shoulder as she grabs a blanket from the end of her bed and heads toward the bathroom.

"I'm not stalking, I'm guarding," I correct.

The bathroom door closes with a click as she mumbles, "Potato, tomato."

* * *

><p>Biding my time leaning against Bella's bathroom door got really old, really fucking quick. I lasted all of twenty minutes, before succumbing to my own need to sleep.<p>

The next thing I knew, I was falling swiftly back with my head hitting cold tile.

"Edward!" I hear her kind of screech.

All I can do is stare up at bare legs. Bare legs and a pile of clothing clutched against a chest that leads up to glaring eyes.

"Adding 'Perv' to your repertoire?" Bella grumbles as she steps over my sprawled limbs. "You really need a fucking hobby."

I sit up and rub the back of my neck whilst trying to think of a witty retort. My vision is still blurry, but I can make out the sight of Bella. Bella with her back to me in nothing but blue panties as she pulls another worn t-shirt over her head.

For a moment I forget our situation.

"I'd say 'take a picture', but this isn't 1998."

"Don't flatter yourself," I answer belatedly, scratching my ribs again under my shirt. "If I wanted to see a pale white ass, I'd look in the mirror."

"Good for you, man."

* * *

><p>The conversation on the way to the Swan House is unbearably one-sided.<p>

I feel like an impatient child traveling to Disney Land, annoying the crap out of their parents by asking question after question.

Bella finally snaps when we pull up to the house. "Shut the fuck up!" she yells in exasperation. "Look, we're here now, and I'll answer all your fucking questions, so just take a Valium or something! _Jesus!_"

I sit back, kind of shocked, but I guess I shouldn't be.

As we make our way around the back of the house, I half-expect to see two fresh graves, and possibly a third open one, waiting for me. The ground is undisturbed, thankfully, but climbing through the kitchen window of the Old Swan House feels weirdly ominous, in a way I don't appreciate.

"Sit down," Bella instructs after leading the way through to the living room, lighting the camping lanterns as she goes. "Just this once, _please_ don't be difficult," she asserts when I don't automatically do as she says.

I take a seat on the old, worn couch/bed, noting the papers and files still littering the coffee table. Bella shoves a few of them aside with a sweep of her hand, taking a seat directly opposite me with her palms flat on her knees. "I know that look," she states solemnly after a second.

"What?"

"That look means you think I'm crazy."

"I don't eve-"

"I know you think I am, but I'm not," she says, cutting me off.

"Okay?" I say, but it comes out a question.

"I'm gonna tell you a few things, but I need you to not freak out."

I eyeball her cautiously, waiting, "Well?"

"Hold on." Bella disappears back into the kitchen for a few seconds, returning with a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses.

"Drink this first."

"Bella, it's not even lunchtime."

"Please, it'll make it easier. For both of us," she insists.

"I can decide that for myself, thanks. And I thought you didn't drink?"

"I don't, I just know how your brain works. You won't drink it until I show you it's not poisoned or some shit," she says, pouring a glass for her and shooting it back. "Dad was saving this for a special occasion," Bella continues as she pours me one. "So while this is only 'special' in the way that funerals are, I don't think he'd mind."

I eye the glass skeptically as Bella takes a deep breath and resumes her position on the edge of the coffee table.

"Okay," she breathes, but falters before she's even begun. "Shit. This isn't gonna work. Will you just drink it already?"

"I'm not drinking shit until you start talking."

"Ugh!" Bella groans, rubbing her face. "Fine. First, you're an asshole."

"Wow. That's truly enlightening. You must share your teachings with the world."

"I can't fucking do this," Bella whines, letting her head fall into her hands as she props her elbows on her knees.

I actually do feel bad now. She's finally giving me some semblance of cooperation, and all I'm doing is aggravating her.

I stubbornly refuse to let my thoughts be known, and so we sit in silence for a while.

"Okay," Bella lifts her head from her hands and looks me in the eye. "Help me move this?" she asks as she stands and brushes her hands down the front of her jeans.

"The coffee table?"

"Yeah." She leans over to try and start shoving it aside herself. Curiosity gets the better of me, once again, and I stand to help her shift it beneath the boarded window.

"Are we uncovering the trapdoor to your secret 'Bat Cave'?" I joke awkwardly.

Bella ignores me, but mutters a quiet 'thanks', before moving around to grab one of the large blankets from the couch. She spreads the fabric out across the bare floorboards, and then grabs two cushions, placing them next to one another at the edge.

"Come here," she instructs as she takes a seat on the ground, laying her head on the left pillow and stretching straight out.

I move to stand by her head and stare down at her with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Bella's jaw tenses momentarily, but then she reaches for the hem of her shirt and lifts it, revealing her stomach. "Remember this?" She asks, almost challengingly.

"You're coming onto me?" I snort.

"Fuck you, you know exactly what it means."

As Bella jerks her shirt back down, I think about what her actions might mean.

"It was one of your weird 'twin things', right?"

There's no way she can be talking about what I think she is. Not even our parents knew about that.

"Have you been talking to Mom?" I ask, even though I know that's not a possibility.

Bella shakes her head slowly, "No. Lizzie told me herself. You got it from your dog back in Chicago, right? Showing your belly as a way of giving in, or saying sorry?"

"You're so full of shit!" I blurt, not willing to accept what she's telling me.

_How in the fuck could she know that?_

"Lay down," Bella says softly, "I'll explain."

* * *

><p><strong>END NOTES:<strong>

'OOOF' is now _officially_ on hiatus. Sorry, guys, I know it's a shitty place to leave it, but new work and family obligations mean I simply don't have to time to write at the moment. Hopefully it won't be too long though.

Huge thanks and hugs to those of you still reading, reviewing, and rec'ing :)


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